We drove past a neighbor's house after church, and I saw their tree -- the best tree in the neighborhood. This is Betsy's tree. I love this tree, and it makes me happy each autumn when it turns a bold yellow.
The sea of yellow leaves -- I want to swim in them. As the light hits them, they are golden, orange, yellow -- all these colors at once.
More leaves were on the tree last week, but they weren't this color yet. I'd rather wait for the color than take the pictures when the tree is full, but less vibrant.
And then these maples have such black trunks, as if they have an angry side, a silent, melancholy temperament too, to offset the bright bubbliness of their effervescent tops.
Would the yellow be so glorious if it didn't have the blue sky behind it?
I'm drawn to the trunk and branches. They stretch up like old lady's arms, lifting their million golden coins to heaven as an offering, then dropping them down, through their fingertips, at the last minute.
Doesn't it look stormy? This picture was taken at the same time as the others. It's all in the lighting, I suppose. This tree seems to have many personalities.
Soon all its beauty till be sucked up by a large truck, along the curb. If God so clothes the Earth in glory and stunning elegance, and then happily throws it away, knowing He will make it all again next year, why do I fear that He will not take care of me?
Betsy's tree kept me looking up, gazing into the branches, and past them to the sky. When I came back home, I found myself still doing so. I found red luster in my own trees too.