When you look at each of these glimpses of nature, what do you see?  Do you see the purple flowers first before the knotted tree?   Do you only glance at the web around the branch because you are afraid of what might be inside?   Does the decaying log even catch your eye?   Do you think it is four trees or one with four arms from its base?  Do you think that the white flowers are starting to fade away?   Do you see the ripples and water drops making a splash?   Do you see the green buds on the branch? 

Would you think differntly if you were looking at these sights while running in the rain?  Or would you not even be outside on such a wet and chilly day?  

Back to the knotted tree.   The following quote by Maya Angelous I think.  “But still, like air, I’ll rise.”  No matter how many knots threathen to halt its progress, still it grows upward towards the sky. 

A tiny branch feeling small among the mighter trees.   Perhaps it questions the value it has to be more than a weed.   Will it ever ‘grow up’ to be as big as the shadows that dwarf its tiny frame?  They offer breeze and shade; what difference can its little size make?  Another small part of nature is in need of a home.   Another piece of nature most don’t care to meet and know.   A tiny branch now mighty as the perfect base.  A purpose fulfilled as a  foundation for a friend to stay.

At one time it was a seed that was planted and then began to grow.  Slowly, steady, in all kinds of weather’s elements its roots took hold.   It started growing upward as it’s roots stretched more.  And then it started branching out as one, two, three, and four.   Each one able to give to the surroundings nearest where each shades.   More that this tree can give splitting itself four different ways.   All four solidly planted on the foundation from which it is connected, each having the others back so to speak.  Strength in numbers, never alone, giving to what their surroundings need.  Through the seasons, the ebbs and flows, the darkness and the light.   Growing, stretching, standing strong no matter the test of might.   Each growing in their own way, but not too far apart that could harm their base.   Knowing when to sway and dance with the wind and storms.  Knowing when to stand tall and steadfast, a safe port.   Their outstretched arms for strangers that scamper up or need to land in a pause.  A blanket for the grass around them when their leaves begin to fall.   They adapt, they change, yet their hold true to who they are meant to be.  A pillar of sustaining beauty.

Two white flowers, one facing up and one facing down.   One catching the rain facing the sky, the other  letting rain wash past it to the ground.   Both adapting the what life is bringing their way.   Both shining as light on a cloudy day.    Testiments of how one can be gentle yet strong, their delicate petals holding on.  

A log that would normally get dismissed, now out of sight, out of mind.   Breaking away from what it was at some point in time.    Maybe it was a tragic moment or maybe at the time it thought it wanted it that way.   Now it is on its own away from its original base.    Easier to turn a cheek and not pay it any mind.  Nature’s gift, though, is to teach the circle of life.   Everything in nature has purpose, even the critters that spin a web and the fungus that grows.   All come together to make our world whole.  

The sky, even in its grey, takes center stage.  Or did you notice first the tiny buds in place?   Or maybe you first looked to where the leaves are well on their way.    Did you spend time marveling at what is growing at a slower pace?   Instant gratification, the stars of the show?  Or appreciation for the ones that take it slow?  

Splish splash, ripple, wave.   A drop here, there, differences made.   A rhythm to each rain drop, a pattern weaved.   A dance, a perfect harmony.   Each of us a rain drop that makes our own splish splash, ripple, wave.   

What difference do you wish to make?