autumn colors

fall color is here in full vigor.

the air had finally become crisp. pumpkins showed up on porches and dining room tables. stores already had been stocked with full christmas wares weeks before thanksgiving, true to tradition.

i love fall, so i was soaking it all up. i had accepted that with our dry summer we wouldn't see anything impressive this year in the way of fall leaves, but i had actually still enjoyed a tree here or there. i had found two beautiful scarlet trees a block away, so each time i took our newfoundland "captain" for his walk, i would purposely take a route where i could soak up their beauty one more time.

but over the last few days i found i was wrong: the splendor of fall had only begun to show her full color.

now nearly everywhere i look i see vibrant golds, almost flourescent oranges, passionate reds, and every shade between.

it's amazing that these colors are nothing new. that every year, they grow from tiny buds, leaf into full maturity during summer, just hiding the whole time beneath the mossy greens of clorophyll. in case you're feeling a little rusty on your biology (because we never forget anything we learn in school, eh? :), clorophyll is the particular molecule in plant cells that allows them to use sunlight to help produce plant food. they are also what give leaves their green color. in the fall, photosynthesis, this process of creating plant food, begins to shut down as the trees prepare for their winter hibernation. as it shuts down, the clorophyll goes away revealing the colors that have been there all along.

perhaps you could call them a tree's true colors.

maybe it's kind of like people.

you know how as people get older they seem to settle more into themselves? strengths become stronger, and weaknesses become obvious to even the casual observer. values become irreversibly ingrained.

so there's the elderly woman who can't say anything good about anything, but instead she continually complains from deep rooted experiences that left her bitter.

and then there's the grandparent that seems to think nothing of themselves, continually giving in any way they can.

but the retiree who says they have no energy to give.

yet the old man who leaves more than memories in his wake--who leaves a legacy of wisdom everywhere he goes.

and i wonder what my true colors will look like when they are revealed in my older years.

what are we doing to cultivate the colors that everyone will see someday?

Rubberneckers

There's a firetruck sitting outside Prince St Cafe right now. And from where I am sitting, I can see several people peering out the windows watching. Wondering what's going on.

I can be an awful rubbernecker.

You know, one of those people who wants so badly to slow down when they drive by an accident, just to see what happened.

One of my closest friends recently entered into one of the darkest times of her life. Her husband last week told her he didn't love her anymore and wanted a divorce. And walked out.

The days since then have been full of emotion. Pain. Betrayal. Fear.

There are times that I wonder "should I pick up the phone and call one more time? Is it okay to stop by AGAIN? Am I just being a rubbernecker in the midst of a crisis? An uneccesary by stander, distracting people from what needs to be going on?"

But then I realize that it's because I care. I hurt because I love them. I think about them and want to call because I care.

And although there are times that you need to just keep driving by and not slow down, when your best friends are in crisis, it isn't one of those times. Maybe that one more phone call or stopping by won't get in the way as much as I fear it will. And maybe if I had stopped by sooner I could have helped before this happened.