This weekend I saw something memorable: two dead trees, side by side, illuminated by the last glowing light of a sunset.
One was devoid of almost all needles, bare, and lifeless, while the second, though equally lifeless, was beautiful in death, retaining enough needles that it glowed reddish in the light, its color remarkable in the midst of a sea of green.
It made me think about legacy. It seemed that the bare tree died even as it was living, losing its cones and needles before the end came, but the other tree lived right up until the last moment, clinging to its life until that life was gone. Then, when a touch of living sunshine illuminated it, the tree almost came to life again, resplendent in color.
When I’m gone, I’d like to be like that second tree.
Copyright 2014 Andrea Lundgren