Stripped.

This schoolyear marked the first in many that I've been in one location for a full four seasons. Berrien Springs wasn't my dream location, but it's been pleasant enough. As I've traveled to school each morning through the summer, into fall, and into late autumn, I've watched the trees change with the seasons.

I love the fall colors. I wish they'd last weeks and weeks and weeks. But repercussions from superstorm Sandy stripped every last twig of its shroud, leaving naked, skinny trees to line my path to the university.
I don't like it so much. Stickly trees aren't much to look at when you recall their lush, heavy greens of summer or resplendent colors of fire just a few weeks prior.

As I left work this morning, I looked at the stickly trees once again, frowning my displeasure at their nakedness. I brooded over the thought of five months more of stickliness. I rounded the corner on Timberland Drive and just about veered off the road. I was enraptured by the warm, golden disc hovering just above the horizon, effortlessly piercing the void between tree branches. I've been rounding this corner for a full four seasons, oftentimes near sunrise, but never has the sun been so clearly visible.

A blessing in nakedness.


I think, perhaps, we're best at letting Sonshine through when we're stripped of what we think makes us beautiful.