Remain As We Are

dogwood16
autumn

 

 

pinkdogwood20188
spring

 

 

dogwoodsept
summer

 

 

 

silverthawdogwood
winter

 

 

Our final dogwood leans
over the forest floor

offering berries
to the birds, the squirrels.

It’s a relic
of the days when dogwoods

flourished—creamy lace in April,
spilled milk in May—

their beauty delicate
but commonplace.

When I took for granted
that the world would remain

as it was, and I
would remain with it.
~Linda Pastan “Elegy”

 

 

dogwood20184

 

 

pinkdogwood517

 

dogwood3_

 

 

babydogwood

 

 

The inevitable change of the seasons, as portrayed by the branches of our aging pink dogwood tree, is a reminder nothing stays the same.

Like this old tree, I lean over more, I have a few bare branches with no leaves, I have my share of broken limbs, I have my share of blight and curl.

Yet each stage and transition has its own beauty:  a breathtaking depth of color flourishes on what once was bare.

Nothing is to be taken for granted.  Nothing remains as it was.

Especially me.  Oh, especially me.

 

 

foldeddogwood

 

 

dogwoodoct4

 

 

drencheddogwood

 

 

decdogwood