Hello all. The inception of this blog was to always project authenticity and truth. It is for that reason that I am sharing with you that this post is from my former blog, My Punch Line. Illness took me down this week and self care has allowed me to forego writing much. Although this was written during the summer months, I hope the thought of tolerance speaks to you.

I never cared for the red leaf tree in my back yard.  I will admit, although I love to be surrounded by nature, I am not always certain of the name of the vegetation whose company I am keeping.  It’s ironic that after growing up during the era of the Walton’s, and enjoying hearing their Grandfather share the beauty of the mountain’s natural surroundings, nothing was retained.  To this day I am not certain what trailing arbutus is.  Our grandfather lived with us and we too enjoyed having three generations under one roof.  Grandpop could peel an apple with the precision of a surgeon and would lay out a pristine garden every year, but not once do I ever recall him sharing the name of the green growth encircling us.

The red leaf tree in my yard has been more of an annoyance than a pleasure.  Its spindly branches remind me of my curly hair, its growth unruly and uneven.  Its location does not offer welcomed shade.  My main source of aggravation is the fact that it hides the corn field behind my yard from view.  It also makes it difficult to catch a glimpse of the herds of deer that enjoy the freedom of the countryside.  So many times over the past few years I have looked at it with disgust and thought how much nicer my yard would be without it.

This morning I rose early to do some much needed yard work.  Grass had taken over my day lilies and the tenacious thistle was rearing its ugly head.  The cooler temperatures lured me out but the humidity soon sent me packing.  The previous evening brought the typical summer storm.  So much moisture in the atmosphere couldn’t be contained any longer and the rain came and drenched the heat laden land.  As the humidity remained the moisture was visible, especially on me.  Soon I could be found in my kitchen, seeking something cold to drink and a reprieve from the heat.  It was there, standing at my sink and looking out the window that I looked at my red leaf tree with a different set of eyes.

A rain drop, souvenir from the previous night, twinkled in the sun light.  This tiny drop of water was like a beacon.  Its radiance shouted out for attention and the gnarly branches and blushing leaves that held it seemed to disappear.  I thought about how timing played a role in the reveal.  I was mesmerized by this droplet and how its beauty could eliminate the distain I held for the stage from where it appeared. My movement would cause the radiance to subside but returning to the original location would again create the sparkle and brilliance.

I decided to move out to my back porch.  Although the rain drop was no longer evident from this angle the entire tree was my focus.  I have a bird feeder and suet block stationed by the tree.  Long I have watched the birds dart back and forth from the tree to the feeders.  My cats act like privileged souls, enjoying the drama unfold before them.  I caught movement higher in the branches and noted a mother robin feeding her young within the safety of a nest.  New growth on the tree shown as bright red leaves, as bright as the feathers on a male cardinal.

I realized this tree was like other aggravations in my life.  It could be that by changing my location or attitude a new appreciation could be found.  Appreciating the protection the tree offers the feathered population could lead to finding purpose among life’s other challenges.  I believe the tree still could use to be trimmed, but maybe it doesn’t have to disappear from my life completely. The blessing of a rain drop allowed me to literally move and find beauty elsewhere.  Change can be a gift.  Now cognizant that it doesn’t exist for me alone, the tree will remain.  It could be time for me to make a change but I don’t have to eliminate the source of my frustration, just relocate and appreciate it has been there for a reason.