Letting The Beauty In

I found this quote in a book the other day:

“As we age the beauty steals inward.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

What a lovely thought that is. I’ve heard of things getting better with age, like fine wine, but beautiful? Now where have I come across this idea before? Of course, where else? In the garden!

I’ve watched a new young sapling struggling to stay upright to become a canopy of luscious greens in spring and summer, and brilliant reds and golds in autumn – but only after years and years of earning its beauty through harsh winter storms. I’ve seen daffodils push through the early spring soil and give us our first colors of the season year after year, but only after they have paid their winter dues as well. As I write this, my eyes look out of the window and fixate on the huge pine tree that sits on the other side of the house next door. I cannot even begin to guess at its height … 50, 60 feet? More? How old must that tree be? Yet it is the first thing I look at when I wake up and hear the neighborhood birds singing in a new day in its branches, and watch Gus, the squirrel, scampering up its trunk for breakfast. It’s also the last thing I see as the sun sets in a blaze of glory behind it, casting it in a huge, magnificent shadow. It was cute when it was little, but it is beautiful in its old age.

So here is another lesson for all of us from the garden: we all get more beautiful as we age. We become more real, more of who we really are. Our beauty is honed from the trials and tribulations of life, and polished to perfection by experience and wisdom. It shines out from our spirits, through our eyes, and our smiles, and our gestures of love. The more winters we learn to survive, the more springs we bloom with gratitude, and gratitude is a beautiful thing, wouldn’t you agree?

And so it is.

I found this quote in a book the other day:

“As we age the beauty steals inward.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

What a lovely thought that is. I’ve heard of things getting better with age, like fine wine, but beautiful? Now where have I come across this idea before? Of course, where else? In the garden!

I’ve watched a new young sapling struggling to stay upright become a canopy of lucious greens in spring and summer, and brilliant reds and golds in autumn – but only after years and years of earning its beauty through harsh winter storms. I’ve seen daffodils push through the early spring soil and give us our first colors of the season year after year, but only after they have paid their winter dues as well. As I write this, my eyes look out of the window and fixate on the huge, huge pine tree that sits on the other side of the house next door. I cannot even begin to guess at its height … 50, 60 feet? More? How old must that tree be? Yet it is the first thing I look at when I wake up and hear the neighborhood birds singing in a new day in its branches, and watch Gus, the squirrel, scampering up its trunk for breakfast. It’s also the last thing I see as the sun sets in a blaze of glory behind it, casting it in a huge, magnificent shadow. It was cute when it was little, but it is beautiful in its old age.

So here is another lesson for all of us from the garden: we all get more beautiful as we age. We become more real, more of who we really are. Our beauty is honed from the trials and tribulations of life, and polished to perfection by experience and wisdom. It shines out from our spirits, through our eyes, and our smiles, and our gestures of love. The more winters we learn to survive, the more springs we bloom with gratitude, and gratitude is a beautiful thing, wouldn’t you agree?

And so it is.