Way back when we only had two monkeys jumping on the bed, and Music Man and I were not outnumbered, we lived in a tiny little neighborhood with big red maple trees.
There was one particular tree that we traveled by either in the wagon (Radio Flyer variety, not horse drawn), or in the van, or on foot each day. It was our "Watching Tree".
The monkeys would notice the tree's changes with each season. They watched it's leaves turn a vibrant red color in the late fall and early winter. By late winter, those glorious red leaves would turn crunchy and brown and fall to the ground. Then until spring, the "Watching Tree" would look so sad and lonely with its barren branches. And just when you could hardly stand to watch that tree look so forlorn, tiny green buds would begin to appear all over the tree and it was spring. As we watched the buds develop into the full-grown, lush green leaves of summer another cycle was complete.
Our "Watching Tree" had taught us a thing or two about the seasons and about the beauty of creation. It provided a platform for many conversations ranging from how our bodies change as we grow to death and new life. Who knew that a tree could be so profound?
We live in a different neighborhood now and we have many more monkeys, but we still have a "Watching Tree" to watch and learn from.
Here it is in late fall/early winter as the leaves are beginning to turn red.
And here is one of the watchers, watching and contemplating life as only a six year old can.