God’s message stood stoic before me resting against the hands of time, its grace shadowing the meadow grass with outstretched arms reaching toward heaven. The rhythm of life … a grand old maple. Winter is coming. Barren landscapes. Cold, harsh winds. Brittle, dead leaves. But before the winter blast, the maple tree bursts with glory, a declaration that life goes on.

Fiery reds rub against the orange of apricots. Sprinkled in the kaleidoscope mix, bright yellow glistens in the sun. It seems the grand old maple recognizes the rhythm of life: spring, summer, fall, winter … and then spring returns again. Each season carries its own beauty, its own expression of God’s glory … if we’ll recognize it and celebrate.