Signs of Fall in Colorado.
Each season, Colorado provides a magical change. Today, Mother Nature gifted us with the first sign of fall in the Rocky Mountains. We woke up with a thin white blanket of cotton-like snow covering our yard, trees, sidewalks, cars and streets. The green leaves of summer are turning golden-brown as they curl up for their eternal rest. Driving through town, there are scarecrows and pumpkins reminding us that we are in the midst of change.
Not sure about you, but the change of seasons is always a welcome time in my life. Seems that as I tire of one, another is ushered in with a gift of newness and hope. The passing seasons hold beautiful memories to be relished in the seasons to come.
Change is coming!
Sometimes changing seasons is less about the weather, atmosphere and our physical surroundings. Sometimes it’s an internal change that comes from deep within. We go through our own form of metamorphosis. And, like the leaves, we simply want to curl up for a much-needed rest.
Have you experienced pain and loss? You know, the gut wrenching emotional kind that has you lying in the fetal position and begging for mercy? The white-light of the future is blinding, and the stark realities of the past keep playing like a broken record in your mind. We’ve all been there. Those times are never fun.
Chin up, Kid. It’ll be okay.
However, time has a way of healing the pain allowing us to move on. Hindsight, as they say, is always 20/20. Often we can see the pain in the rear-view mirror, and with added perspective we realize that in the midst of the pain good things were happening… even if we couldn’t see it at the time.
I’ve had a some hard times in my life. We all have. Sometimes it’s hard to put it all in perspective. This week I experienced some clarity in the form of a story about weeds. I hope you enjoy it.
Weeds in the Garden
If not kept in check, weeds will take over the garden. When the vines overgrow and take over, the life beneath is suffocated and dies a slow and lonely death. If you wait too long, it becomes increasingly difficult to prune the weeds. Their roots become a meandering labyrinth of life-sucking turmoil.
There were seasons that I didn’t tend to my garden. I was complacent and allowed the weeds to flourish and take over. The vibrant colors were replaced with a muted brownish-green hue, a reminder that I surrendered without a fight. The roots beneath are a twisted mess. I can pull with all my might, but the roots are stronger, and they allow no give.
Thank goodness, Fall is here! The days are becoming shorter and the season will run its course – and the weeds will die. They’ll loosen their tight grip on my flowering roots. The floodgates will create a moist mud-clay-soil which will allow me to pluck their roots, one by one. With a swing of my wrist I can toss them in a pile.
The question becomes, what will I do with the dead, dry weeds? Do I burn the big pile and allow the flames to flow freely into the universe? Do I feed them to a goat where they’ll be chewed unmercifully and later discarded as recycled nutrients for the land? Do I mix them with mud and create shelter? Their strands will strengthen the dried mud and protect me from the elements. Keeping the structure nearby is a reminder that even untended gardens produce results.
I guess we can never truly discard our pain and suffering. Like it or not, it’s there. What it comes down to is what are we going to do with the weeds. We’ve seen them, we’ve plucked them and tossed them into a pile. We have choices.
What do you do with your weeds?
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