Thursday, December 01, 2005

Hoarfrost Orange

This morning I witnessed a miracle, and all I did was walk out my front door.

Lately I've been fairly enamored with hoarfrosted trees. When they make their appearance there is nothing quite like them. The immobile dance of one tree in particular caught my eye today. I saw it as I came off the stairs from the courtyard in front of our home. It looked perfect.

The trunk was dusty brown and the evergreen branches were rebelliously white, as if scoffing at the stereotype and daring to confront a label. It was a simple tree. One of a million and, at the same time, one in a million.

As I approached this wonderful figure I noticed that I had never noticed it before. And there was another tree beside it too; much shorter and deciduous. It appeared to have white leaves with orange undersides. Seemed strange that those leaves had hung on so long, but there they were in their seasonal defiance, perhaps spurred on by the rebellion of the evergreen. It occurred to me that these two trees had been companions through thick and thin for many years now. Funny I'd never really seen them before.

The inevitability of this miracle's passing was upon me as it came time to walk on by. After all I had places to be. But at our closest point I saw more marvelous hues: a touch of green behind the snow and orange-pink dusting the white. The pink was brighter at the top where the sunrise had crept over the apartments behind us. Turning away I decided these were the most beautiful trees I'd ever seen and thanked the Creator. Certainly they'd been created long ago, but the particularity of today's display made it feel like a brand new painting on a very old canvas.

I looked back several times before turning the corner out of sight. The people who saw me from the bus stop across the street must have thought I was being tailed. But I didn't care. In fact, I was glad I looked back because in doing so I saw the strangest thing of all. In the shadow of the sunrise the tree was a charcoal-green sillhouette, as if it had decided to hide it's glory once again. Like most miracles this one was incognito, and could only be seen by those who opened their eyes.

2 comments:

Julie said...

Again beautifully written. Inspires me to go look a little longer at my own trees, and all the inspiring creations in my won front yard.

Thanks for writing.

Julie

b said...

Great take on one of those mundane, taken for granted sightings that any other day might have been missed completely! Once in awhile God needs to grasp your jaw line between His finger and thumb and remind us to focus on the beauty of His creation. Even two trees can paint such a focussed picture of the delite that He takes in His creation