Bill's World

I sit at my computer and look through the window into the woods above and beyond.

The path runs along the ridge nestled just this side of the woods. Pines and poplars and maples crowd along the path’s edge like children wanting to be first.

And, I don’t blame them. If I were as pretty as they are, I would want to be first, too.

It’s a funny thing. I look at this brilliant tapestry of color, and I see beauty as it filters through the window and nestles up close and personal. It does. Real beauty is like that. Warming.

I see trees and leaves with their spottings of bark . I see autumn through a wide lens. I dare not look too close for fear of missing something seen only as a whole. What I see is a piece of cloth put together by the Master. It is an orchestration; take away the drums and you have lost the beat. Smother the flute and feeling falls to the floor.

I realize that I am just sitting here entranced, and that I need something to rouse me from my reverie. Something did. It was the leaves falling, one or two at a time, that had hypnotized me. And it was the leaves, still falling, that puffed me with drafts of oxygen and brought me around.

I will never understand nature. I know that she is as much a revolving door as any modern contraption that allows humans to enter but keeps out those elements that make humans shiver. She was out there last spring, sewing her seeds, fertilizing her fields, making ready.

She sent sun and rain, and those bare branches that seemed like bones did their part. Out popped buds and leaves and flowers and the wonderful glow of life.

Now, here it is, fall. Once again. The revolving door has gone around in one form and has come back in another.

Let the music begin.

(How’d we get so lucky?)

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