Staying Present

In the midst of brown stumps, 

a cluster of baby green leaves bloomed

The impending winter has reared its head in fits and starts. A delicate dance of assertion and retreat. Dry, blustery cold in the 20s and 30s, followed by a balmy day in the 60s and rain.

The rose bush has been pruned to meager stalks of brittle thorns. In the midst of the brown stumps, a cluster of baby green leaves bloomed. They have hung on since before Halloween. Not spreading out along the rest of the stalk, but not curling up and dropping off either. The forsythia bush has been trimmed away from the garage. At the base of the shrub, miniscule yellow flower petals emerged.

Had this tiny bounty been there since the first burst of spring? Tucked safely behind the abundance of sun and summer days that lingered without a sense of immediate closure, perhaps they had survived  the bugs, wind, drought, and the changing seasons.

Maybe they were tricked by a string of unseasonably warm days. Foolishly making a naive effort,
ignorant to the fact that winter is so close.

Maybe it speaks to the benefits of awareness, of existing within the present as it is. Sensing a comforting warmth and light, stretching and basking in the glow, the branch put forth one last leaf. While understanding that winter would soon sweep in - that flowers must fade - it chose to enjoy the fleeting moment. All other leaves and blossoms had shriveled and blown away. The brave rose leaf and lone forsythia petal remained. Nakedly exposed, clinging to a plant descending into hibernation. Fully enjoying precious time before the freeze.

Stretch, bask in the glow

Live in the present as it occurs