This Season Between Seasons

I received two gifts this week. They were not placed in a box and wrapped with pretty paper and bows. I doubt the givers even realized their value—one was placed in a text message and wrapped with humble caring, the other a short phone call swathed in humor. Now, I realize that such gifts could have easily slipped away without notice, but not only did I notice, I took them to heart.

Our hike last weekend at Sibley State Park offered us gifts in the form of Nature’s art. Moss was the medium of the day, the stand-out color in the gray woods. A designer-inspired garb wrapped a large Oak with velvet softness and with an accent of flaky, brown grapevine.

A wooly green fleece covered the feet of an elder in warmth and color.

Barnacle-like lichens completely covered a branch in interesting form and texture.

The character and patina of a decaying log offered a rich history of a living, transpiring being that will return once again to the soil it sprang from.

Young, supple stems of Sumac stood up through the amber grasses and sagey perennials on the outskirts of the gray woods.

A stripe of snow accented the lime green moss that seemed to be flourishing in the late November landscape.

And speaking of landscapes….

The muddy, frozen slough water made the perfect cast for an Oak leaf—exquisite design captured…until the sun’s rays or warm-enough temperatures melt it away.

Frosty fungi—another new growth lighting up the somber groundscape.

Medullary or pith rays run perpendicular to the growth rings and are prominent in hardwood trees. They create a radiating pattern from the heart of the stem (the pith) to the bark and carry nutrients in this lateral direction. They are what create the intricate and amazing patterns of quartersawn wood.

Gray ice, white snow, forest green cedars, and muted gold grasses offer a gesture of grace in this season between seasons…,

…along with a message for those who notice, who can read the lines, who take things to heart.

Nature offers us gifts each and every day—do we notice? In this season between seasons—no longer Fall and not yet Winter—it is easy to believe in the grayness, the ‘dying’ of old vibrancy, and the things that have fallen away. But still there is warmth and new growth that is contrary to the outside illustration. It is all a part of our rich history. The gifts of words wrapped in caring and humor were given from the hearts of two people that radiated out to me. Instead of seeing the decay of Fall and loss, I was able to turn my head slightly and see different things. The gifts were gestures of grace—I noticed them, I received them, and I took them to heart.