Roy downloaded his pictures last night to keep him from
getting too involved in the Baylor game.
In hindsight, that was a good decision.
I loved looking through all the pictures he had taken and deleted several
that I did not find too attractive. On
our trip I had asked him to take pictures of the dormant trees. He kept calling them dead trees but they aren’t
dead, they are in their winter display. This
bare bones pageant of the trees draws me in, almost into a hypnotic gaze as I
study their structure and limbs. Don’t
get me wrong, I love me some trees in the spring, summer and fall but in winter
they await their new growth naked and exposed to all who take the time to
notice. The trees in their full fall
foliage beauty is what the people come to see every year, but a tree standing
bravely in the cold is beautiful with the backdrop of the sky to highlight and
adorn those limbs with beauty is a celebration in itself. The soft gray of sleep dominates the mountainsides
and looks like a dusting of snow. In the
midst of this gray palette are the few greens of pine trees and the spotty
shadings of red. It is a sight to
behold. Many think of winter as a time
of death and I guess I would have to admit they are correct. Some people use the word winter to describe
their lives or the season they find themselves in. To them, winter is a negative connotation and
truly, I understand that. I know at some
point and I don’t remember any defining moment, but at some point, my attitude
toward winter changed. It is probably
the most real of all the seasons. When
there are no leaves on the trees, the illusion of being in the middle of the
country is lost at Biltmore. Looking
across the river at the entrance of the estate you can see the railroad tracks
and loading station. The distant lights
of Asheville can be seen from the Inn.
You can see all the homes that are scattered across the acreage that
house essential personnel to the running the estate 24/7. This doesn’t diminish the illusion but it
speaks that those things essential to living are near-by. The leaves of spring and summer hide those
things. It is easy to be a tree in
spring, summer and fall. All it has to
do is stand, keeping deeply rooted. In
the winter the tree stands against the cold, bitter wind. Every knot hole, damage to its bark and the
slight and insignificant stems visible, exposed and that is when the unmasked architecture
reveals what is behind the splendor and magnificence of a tree.
Roy teased me all week about my attraction to the
trees. He was relentless but I was just
as relentless sharing my observations and thoughts of the winter trees in the
mountains. The compensation of winter
tree observation has transferred over into other matters in finding fascination
in the dormant areas of life and even people.
So many treasures have been found in lackluster surroundings. Often we read of people discovering coins, jewelry,
rare books, and other prized possessions under a layer of ordinary. At first glance only the dated and ugly might
be obvious, but with a little investigation and time, something wonderful can
be discovered and appreciated.
We are drawn to the flashy and beautiful. We can be taken in with spiritual sounding
words, tones, touch and looks. The easy clichés
and the practiced stance and looks, transfix and hold until the ‘leaves’ collapse
and the true manner is exposed. That is
when we find out the wonder of the tree or the person. We are captivated by those who stand and
exist in the public arenas that are vulnerable and authentic in their
message. They let you see a little bit
of their lives as an unleafed tree. They would be foolish to totally unleaf. JWe
are interested and amused for a while by those whose leaves never fall or
change. Truly they, are but for a season
and may even remind us of all the silk and fake finery that can be found in any
big box decorative store. The price is
right and looks good at first, but then they are nothing but a dust magnet.
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