Trees Dripping Like Rain Drops

We seem to say time after spring and summer with it dripping quite easily off our tongues. Springtime, summertime. Every once in a while we'll hear or say wintertime. But have you ever heard anyone saying fall time or autumn time? Nor have I. You have to separate time from the season even with those two. It's just Autumn or Fall. No time, I like that. Settling in. Good I can touch that and think about that even in the spring when everything is blossoming, blooming and changing to bear fruit. I think I like fall because we get to just be. Watching the trees still subtly change. The ones that are blossoming so beautifully now will then be turning their leaves to gold and brown.

Winter will again find them bare with just their branches sticking out naked, without leaves.

These white blossoms on the cherry tree tells me what time of year it is. I know it is spring when it is flowering, I know it is summer when I see bright red cherries being plucked off by the crows and robins and all the other climbing tree nature friends. Green leaves fill up all the spaces in between and I can no longer see into the street nor the trees on the opposite side.

Crocuses leave with winter, but loving dandelions, buttercups, daffodils and tulips are sprouting up everywhere you look.

We've thrown out some handfuls of wild flowers, soon they will be growing here, there, everywhere. Never have thrown those seeds onto the hill off the back porch like I said I would. Still have time, still have some kind of seed laying around on the front porch that will love to grow in that ground.

We can always tell when it has been raining out, by the quiet dripping sounds outside from the trees and the roof, now I can hear the birds again start to sing, quietly, saying to one another, "that was a good rain, the worms will be easy to pull up out of the grass," as they hop about, doing such things. Looking to the sky for some hopeful blue, can't see far, just the mass wave of grey clouds that are slowly floating by, so the wind is up there with them I see.

They call me to stop, come and see where a spot of the blue sky might be.

Nope, just one big white sky. Rain still in the air. See the drops hanging onto the maple tree.

It's leaves are growing bigger out of the little seed buds. How amazing to see how they grow. Looks almost like a grape cluster hanging off the end of the branch. Then suddenly a leaf is born and grows and grows to be much larger than the palm of my hand. Another then another, then oh my gosh, suddenly it seems the whole tree is covered with these tremendous. almost hand shaped maple leaves.

Then come autumn, it is amazing to see the leaves then turn yellow, fade into brown and are blown off onto the ground.

How wonderful this concept of time brought this clear picture of nature we see, nothing for granted, all is planned accordingly. Nature obviously shows us a valid ongoing process of time. No matter what. Doesn't matter what we may be feeling, doing, thinking or saying. Nature in this pacific northwest has a real way of showing us by the trees, which season it is in. Even if it is not so evident elsewhere time still goes through the seasons. The mildness of this climate is so comforting. We honor the rain for the way it makes everything grow.

Even if we are not that fond of it day after day, continuously. Still, better than living in a rain forest, I've been told.

Our winters are nothing compared to the below zero temperatures of the north or midwest. Or like Alaska to live one half year in the sunshine the next half in darkness. I would not even want to imagine that.