Ripe

... people and plants

It’s been a strange and hectic year in many ways; summer is far spent, and the fall, like it or not, is peaking around the corner. I’ve seen a few maple trees starting to begrudgingly tint some leaves purple, if you’ve got enough of a sharp eye to notice. The rain has been fall

ing; the yards, gardens, and forest are caught in a dream, acting as if we are smack in the middle of spring, instead of teetering on the edge of those cold north winds that are swirling and planning their havoc from far in the north.

But one should enjoy the good moments for what they are. Someone, somewhere, once said that tomorrow has enough trouble for itself, we shouldn’t drag them back into today.

I’m not sure how summer started slipping quietly away, without me noticing. The other day, as I was casually minding my own business, the peach tree next to my front door begged me to notice the healthiest clusters of peaches, enough to make the branches drop, and some of which were starting to show that hint of reddening around the edges. As if that wasn’t enough, my backyard strawberry patch started to profusely parade its blood-red fruit, and the raspberry bush down in the corner decided to turn all at once.

Ripe. Or darn near ripe.

Much like nature, we humans seem to get ripe as well; makes sense, I guess. At the tender middle age of 41, with a creaky back in the morning and stiff knees, I'm surprised the ripening has overtaken me so quickly. We feel young and fresh, like the grass in our minds, but our bodies are quick, like that same grass, to turn brown and look scraggly under the heat of life and summer beating away.

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Plants, animals, and people

The monarchs have been flitting and fluttering a lot the last few weeks, clearly working themselves up for their long journey that lies ahead. They are the masters of chaos, charting a path that fools even the most astute child intent on their capture. It seems we enticed them with our wildflower garden. We aren’t that much different, are we? When something or someone we don’t like comes along, we jitter and twist to get away from the uncomfortable.

Like the butterflies, our life is a trail of unknowns, some good, some bad. We seek the best path forward, dodging the reaching hands, birds, storms, and rain. Hardship is part of that journey; that’s what makes it a journey. As much as we want the perfect, peaceful path, it’s probably the moments that give us scars and blood that define our character and beliefs.

It seems to me that the older we get, the more ripe we get, the more we are apt to run into various forms of adversity. This is natural, I think. Our older friends and family drop off one by one; sickness, death, and tragedy start to poke their heads up farther and farther the more ripe we get. We end up at the peak of our careers, which brings its own set of responsibilities and stress. Our families and children demand more of our time and resources; our own bodies act up in various and sundry ways.

But just remember, when life starts to rip, there is plenty of joy and happiness to be had.

Every part of life is unique and a gift; we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow. A wise man somewhere once said … “Should we accept only good from the hand of the Lord, and not bad?” Life is a sliding scale; some days and seasons will be better or more difficult than others. It’s important to find joy in the everyday: the walks, reading a book, messing with flowers, talking to friends. There will always be things to complain about, things “going wrong.” But there are two sides to every coin: joy just as much as sadness.