This morning, as I was picking up the house (post Heather-tornado), I chanced to look out our front window.
We have a bay window in our living room, and perfectly framed in it, a tree. I have no idea what kind of tree it is, but it gives us blossoms in the spring, and some kind of inedible cherry/crab-apple/rose hip/but-not-really-any-of-those-things in the summer, and at this glorious fall time, the leaves turn from a dusky deep green to a vibrant orangey-red.
Of all the colors and "clothing" that our little tree wears, I like her autumn wardrobe the best.
It was four years ago this month that I bought our little town home and moved in*. I remember looking out the front window then and thinking how glad I was to have that beautiful tree in view.
I still am.
*Just in case you're wondering, when I bought the town home, Eric and I were only slightly more than acquaintances. We married about 18 months later, and since Eric had been renting an apartment at the time, he just moved in to my home, thus making it ours. All I had to do was push some of my clothes to one-half of the closet, and find room elsewhere for his stereo and television. Heaven!