when words aren't necessary

an apple a day

Until today, I had never been apple picking, a sad, shocking fact when you realize how much I talk about pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin patches, the glory of leaves changing colors, and wearing sweaters.

A few weeks ago, I set some seasonal goals for myself, the most important one being:  pick apples.

If any frolicking in an apple orchard or drinking apple cider happened concurrent to that, that would just be a bonus.

I really just wanted to pick a bushel, or perhaps a peck {if I could figure out what that is}, of apples.  While doing so, I wanted to sing "I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck" from Guys and Dolls.

Today, I picked half a bushel of apples, of Jonathan and Empire apples.

I did not sing because I was kidding about that part, but I did drink apple cider and I was wearing a hoodie and my friends and I laughed loudly and often as we lugged our half-bushel of little apples across the orchard, all under a crystal blue sky.

I think I'll make some pie out of sheer americana and excitement from getting to check off a goal.  Because seriously, what else am I going to do with all these apples?

only a branch

I thought I'd show you my abide Post-it Note.  And now you can see that it's actually a more complex, fancy Post-it Note than I lead you to believe in my cubicle life ramblings.

Yes, this is a two Post-it Note reminder:  that's how much I need to hear this message about remaining calm, about how I'm not, nor do I need to be, the center of attention.  The Big Deal.  The Envy of Those Around Me.

Bonus with this:  you can see my art skills.  I certainly don't want to brag {that would go against my declaration not 3 seconds ago that I don't need to be a Big Deal}, but I definitely have the drawing-a-tree thing down.

Should you ever come to my house {and you're always welcome...unless it's past 10pm.  My early-to-bed-early-to-rise body shuts down then, and I a1a) start not making much sense, and b2b) am more likely to get snippy with you.}...so should you ever stop by at a previously-approved hour, you'll see that trees figure prominently in my artwork. 

I just finished a painting that's a close-up of a tree.

In one of my favorite paintings—the only one I've ever titled—I painted a tree that has just one little bud on it.  It's called "Hope Springs."

I've written about trees, too.  You can read this thing I wrote for my church's blog, and you'll see yep, once again, there I go with the trees.

Do you ever look back on times in your life and realize that there was a theme running through it?  Like very obviously running through it?  You're not sure how you missed it when you were living it, but hey, daily life sometimes has a nasty habit of obscuring all but the most mundane {until you look hard enough past that}.

It was only this morning, as the beginning of a poem about a tree came to me while I was running, that I realized that trees and branches {and all the accoutrements of trees} could be called a theme of my recent past.

I think it's the strength and changeable beauty combined; I think that's what is drawing me to trees right now as an image of reassurance. 

Think of it this way:  a lot of us, me included, have trouble adapting to change.  But when I see the first burst of autumnal color—when I see those first few leaves starting to turn—I can't help it: I am excited by that change.

I know it may sound silly, but once you realize that you can be excited by change, you start to see seasons of transition a bit differently.  You start to see the beauty and the bursts of color.  You start to see the leaves on the ground {which you know should represent death} as proof that change can be invigorating...if you kick through it hard enough.

This is a very spare explanation of my current tree obsession, but I hope you can see now why a Post-it Note with only a branch on it can help me handle the hard days at work.