Nature's Wisdom   Fall, 2007 Vol. 6 Issue 3                                                     by Sarah Anne Edwards          "I don't worry about tomorrow. Find out about a mile on down the road."                                                               I'm Gone. Chris Tompkins and Bo Bice Giving Thanks by Sarah Anne Edwards   Ah, with Fall, you just never know. It's extreme. It's quixotic. Yesterday morning it was 37 degrees here. Today it's 60. Yesterday morning when I opened the blinds, a seeping fog was swallowing the meadow, shrouding us in a misty gray. Today the skies are solid bright Summer blue.   Even the trees are a daily surprise. Part green, part yellow, part red, part brown and gathered at our feet. Here to today, gone tomorrow. Blessedly, though our trees are still here. In Southern California, just about an hour down the way, Fall is fire season when the hot, dry Santa Ana winds start to blow. Only days ago, thousands of trees were burned to death in 35 simultaneous wildfires. My heart wept for those trees. My mind preferred to objectify them as abstract statistics peppering the newscasts about far away events. But my heart knows the truth.   Those trees could be our trees.   The grand Jeffries and Ponderosas that greet my eyes every morning whether bathed in sunshine or peeking through the clouds. The same trees in whose branches our Stellar Jays and Red Wing Black Birds play everyday. The very trees the Moon peeks through in the dark of night to cast dancing moon shadows over our front yard. Those could be the trees that compose the very backdrop of my life.  As I watch our trees swaying, as I hear their rustling and moaning and roaring voices howling on the wind, I wince at the thought of their screams were they to be consumed in scorching walls of flame, like the trees in this remarkable photograph taken with a digital camera by fire behavior analyst John McColgan from Fairbanks, Alaska.  Only then do I briefly allow myself to grasp the horrible finality of the Forests that are dying even now as I write this in droughts or cyclones, floods or fires. Their heritage of hundreds upon hundreds of years gone in an instant – never to be again in our lifetimes, or even our children’s lifetimes. Gone – no trips to the store to buy some more. No calling in orders for new ones. But, ah, yes, Fall is here, teaching me, re-assuring me once again, that is the nature of things. "There is a force in nature, not bound to be kind to man," as Thoreau pointed out. Nor bound to meet our expectations, to be on our time schedule, to stay around for us, to be convenient, or do our bidding. Change and generations of re-building are the nature of things. So, yes, if we respect such cycles, and don't cover the empty spaces of things bygone with buildings and parking lots, the trees will return, just not for me, not for us.  We are left to enjoy the beauty each day presents, be it the beauty of Summer blue or Winter gray, of towering old-growth trees or budding new-born ground cover. Savoring, tending, loving and caring for what is before us while we can. Living in gratitude for each surprise of yet another grand moment and vowing to protect and preserve whatever we can of all that we love. Because, as Fall teaches, you just never know! "If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance, like flowers and sweet-scented herbs--and is more elastic, starry, and immortal--that is your success."                     --Henry David Thoreau           Happy Thanksgiving!  Blessings of Fall,  Sarah                                                                                           Home  Continuing Education  Newsletter  Books  Contact Us