So, tree.

Does summer know you’re leaving?

De-leafing?

Leaving leaves to senescence?

You’ve shuttered your

first zones, I see.

Closed some taps.

I know your obedience.

your death to self.

Soon, she will too.

Those wrenching tears,

that hard abscission.

First ride blows into town and

you’ll send them packing.

.

.

*******

.

And, IN AN EGGSHELL, SM posts from earlier this week:

Last cutting.

“Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”

—Psalm 126:6

.

Tough Climb.

(Note the raft at lower left, for scale.)

Salmon River, Idaho

“And I will make all my mountains a road . . .”

—Isaiah 49:11

*******

.

2020?

“The first little pig soon met a man with a load of straw. ‘Please, mister, will you give me some straw to build a house?'”

*******

.

Red-Tail art.

“He has filled them with skill to do every sort of work done by an engraver or by a designer or by an embroiderer in blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen, or by a weaver—by any sort of workman or skilled designer.”

—Exodus 35:35

*******

Blessings, friends. I’m glad you’re here.

Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks