Dad’s apple tree, planted so many years before, now lays barren and dry waiting for the approaching winter.
Gone are the profuse, fragrant blossoms of springtime.
The abundant, vibrant red apples have all been picked, harvested at the peak of ripeness.
Even the leaves, now colored by the short days and cool nights, float to the ground, making wind-blown piles beneath the branches.
All that is left is to peacefully accept the changing seasons, with the full knowledge—and no regrets—
that we enjoyed the fruit while we could, while we had the chance—making lots of deserts, sharing with others what we were given, and even storing up applesauce in the freezer for when the cold storms of winter blow and threaten to erase the memory of our little tree that gave all it had. It will be then that the fruit will taste the sweetest. When we remember….
While I can do nothing to change the course of time, I remain standing confidently and waiting patiently for the promise that heavenly springtime will come again.
Ecclesiastes 3
1To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
