This is the last image I will take of the changing colors in the trees this season. I cannot top what this one little tree represents to me. It is located in small spot next to my parking space at work and I look at it every day. Friday morning, as I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that this one little tree represented a microcosm of the seasons all wrapped up in its branches.
Half of the tree had lost it’s leaves already. The bare branches representing the starkness of the oncoming winter. But still hanging on to one side of that little tree was a burst of color that lit up in the morning sun. The brilliant yellows and orange that herald the last hurrah of Mother Nature before the cold sets in and turns everything to a muted brown. And still, in a few of the lower branches, there are a handful of green leaves clinging on, refusing to acknowledge that the inevitable change was coming. Stalwarts to the bitter end.
In a lot of ways I am like that. I hate change. Not all change mind you, just in a few simple things that I cherish in my life. Hate is a strong word that I do not like to use, but when it impacts those things that I hold near and dear it is the only one that fits. I am too nostalgic. I tend to hang on to things in life much longer than I should. Much like the green leaves of that tree I refuse to let go until I can no longer hold off what is coming. Then slowly and begrudgingly I let nature take its course.
I am a packrat of sentimentality. I think that is one reason I enjoy photography so much. It allows me to capture that memory of a time when all was right with the world, if only for an instant. I can always look back to that image and reflect on the memories, the emotions. Hence the name of my site….Tempus Memoria…Time Remembered.