God draped our woods with Jacob’s coat while I soul stripped on the edge of the Frio.
The countryside explodes with color.
“Aren’t the trees just beautiful? I can’t get over how they popped while I was in Texas.”
Grace agrees. “But you know they’re dying, right? The colors mean they’re dying.”
We’ve pulled into the garage, and I shut off the Journey, ponder this. “You’re right.” I pause and look at her. “Then I guess there’s beauty in dying.”
She shrugs. “You didn’t know that?”
Yet I know that’s not entirely true. There can be a kind of beauty, especially for those of us who know that death is not really death. But even so, death often strikes sudden, hollow and horrific. The dying process can be messy. And painful. And ugly. And heartwrenching.
They say deciduous trees start autumn preparations in spring. And the leaves will carry out their work for such a time as this, this one season, this one moment in time.
They absorb light and spill life into the whole bark-covered body so the tree grows deep and wide and tall.
Shorter days stimulate system shutdown. Green chlorophyll that flooded and covered yellow and orange pigments recedes, and the leaves display their true colors.
The brilliant reds and crimsons and purples, those colors result from trapped glucose, sugar sweetness. The delicious hues come from anthocyanins, antioxidants that provide a level of protection and help keep leaves alive just a little longer, infusing food until they finally fall. The intensity of blaze depends on the weather variations.
The browns? They result from tannin, a bitter waste product that remains in the leaf.
When their work is finished, the leaves fall, decompose, restock the soil with nutrients, help it hold water. Nothing of life wasted. The tree rests, the cycle goes on, hope reigns.
But as they approach the end of life, it seems their brilliance hinges on light absorbed and food stored.
And red is the truest color of autumn.
The color of hope.
Beautiful, Sandy–all of it. Are those this year’s pictures? I can’t wait to get to our Hill Country to see this display! Did you like Texas?
Yes. This year. On a walk down our road.
I didn’t see a lot of Texas. We drove from San Antonio to Leakey. That’s an interesting trip as the city gives way to country and all those ranches. I’m not used to being able to drive 75-80 MPH. 😉 The Frio River and the canyon and Laity Lodge itself–indescribable. Beautiful. Such a sense of His presence. I do wish I could have made it to ACFW if only to see you! And if I’d had enough time and Dennis could have come, to do some exploring.
I love, love, love this and your pictures are stunning!
Thanks so much, Julie.
Soul stripping–and now the trees lay themselves bare. Beautiful.
Oh, that’s a true connection! Pondering that.
Beautiful, Sandra. I’ve never witnessed season’s change like this…it’s spotty and subtle here on Pollywog Creek…and continues even through January…but I love your analogy. This: “Green chlorophyll that flooded and covered yellow and orange pigments recedes, and the leaves display their true colors” really spoke to me. I pray that as youth recedes from my life that the true colors that are displayed are as beautiful as those in Creation.
Oh, me too! I don’t want to find myself just full of waste.
I especially loved this line: “But as they approach the end of life, it seems their brilliance hinges on light absorbed and food stored.” What a pointed comparison you make between trees in autumn, and people, especially women, as they age. Your post expresses as an object lesson what Peter told us long ago: “Your beauty…should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight (1 Peter 3:3-4). And how do we achieve that gentle and quiet spirit? By doing what leaves do: absorbing light and story away food. We must absorb the Light of God (2 Corinthains 4:6) and store away the Word of God until it impacts our thoughts and actions (Psalm 119:33-37).
Thank you, Sandra, for another beautiful, thought-provoking post!
Thank you for that, Nancy. And amen. To store Him up is the way of true beauty.
Inner beauty, as Nancy so aptly quotes from Peter, is to be desired far beyond all else. I’ve known people who are far more beautiful in their senior years than they ever were in youth. And those who constantly struggle to conceal aging have their focus misplaced. Mind you, the increasing physical limitations of advancing years can be discouraging, but we do what we can to care for the body we’ve been given and take heart in knowing that God has a use for us at every stage of our lives.
Great meditation today, Sandy, and your photos are exquisite, as always! Perfect for your analogy, too.
Ah, Carol. You are so good at drawing spiritual reflections from the everyday. So that encourages me. 🙂
And you are so right about maintaining the right focus. We can’t ignore the fact that we’re all aging and will one day pass on, so we need to prepare for that. But to live deep in the present moment with our eyes on Him knowing that He has a plan and a purpose for us in every season–that’s where we need be. (And if I want to wear mismatched socks like the grandgirl does, that’s okay, right?)
This is so beautiful! I’ve always been fascinated by autumn because I have so little of it down here. You’ve turned a science lesson into a spiritual lesson.
That’s one of the things I love about Michigan. Colors, crunchy leaves–and fresh apples from the orchard–cider, fires, doughnuts. But the snow…I tire quickly of that. I have to really deep see in winter. 🙂
I absolutely love this Sandy. I love the analogy (and I learned a lot too!).
I learned a lot as I read, too. And funny thing–Grace was telling me the same stuff about the leaf colors after I posted this.
Terrific, Sandy. Pictures are glorious, story is superb. YOU CAN DO THIS. :>)
I don’t know about that… 🙂
Wow! We are not at peak yet-just beginning to turn. But, Sandy? When our hills are covered with Jacob’s coat…I will think of you.
🙂 🙂
Although the leaves may die, the tree does not…
Yup! Unless…
I love this: “God draped our woods with Jacob’s coat.” But I know this one all too well: “Shorter days stimulate system shutdown.” This may be my favorite: “But as they approach the end of life, it seems their brilliance hinges on light absorbed and food stored.” So-so beautiful, Sandy!
Thank you so much, my friend.
How interesting! It’s good to think of death like this- like the sun when it sets gives out the most riotous of colors, at least here in the Philippines! Patsy from HeARTworks and papemelroti
Most riotous of colors. I love that! And thinking of death as a sunset…because it will rise again! 🙂
Love that phrasing: God draped our woods with Jacob’s coat. Now that, my dear, is a stellar opening sentence (and a beautiful post, too).
Opening sentence…do you think Lauren would like it? 😉
Sandra, oh, your words, how they grip my heart. It makes me think of dying to self — oh, aren’t we all called to this, again and again? — and the beauty of the surrender, of Him working, and the promise — yes, the hope — of His life in us renewed. Thank you.
Oh yes. A daily death and resurrection.
God’s timing is so perfect and reading this post is a blessing on so many levels. Yesterday on a day trip, we noted how the trees were “peaking”. That’s where I hope I am – at the peaking stage and readying for a blaze of color right before glory!
Peaking and ready to blaze. Yes! Me, too.