I drive by my favorite tree in all of Grayson on a daily basis. It's located near the Rosebud Road entrance to Bay Creek Middle School. Eleven months out of the year, it's a fairly non-descript tree; tall, green leaves (or no leaves), located right next to an oak or something. The oak tree has already started turning; it's leaves are reddish-golden, and will be orange by the time Halloween rolls around. When you drive by, you look right at and think of Fall.
My favorite tree, meanwhile, just bides it's time.
See, right now, it's in this funky transitional stage: the leaves are still green, but they've taken on a hue that can only be described as seeing HD in real life. The color is vibrant, and when sunlight strikes it, the air around the tree almost seems to get clearer. It's sad that you have to use TV as a simile for the real world, but the experience just defies description. Because in about a week's time, you'll behold colors that just don't appear that often around here.
See, the reason why this is my favorite tree in Grayson is, when its leaves start turning, they don't go the usual red-orange-brown route. These leaves go from a vibrant green to a near glorious yellow, a yellow that I can't even begin to describe in words. And once it changes, that yellow stays around for weeks, until nearly every leaf has left the branches and scattered to the winds. It's a transformation unlike any other tree around here, because of it's sheer brilliance.
From green to yellow in the most vivid, spectacular of colors. From yellow to barren. From barren to green. And so on.
This is a stupid post. I wholeheartedly recognize that. Not one person in Grayson really cares about my observations about a tree on Rosebud Road. Not when we're surrounded by a thousand other trees tricked out in the finest of Fall fashions. Honestly, when you can look around you and see color exploding everywhere, why should this one tree matter? So it's different. Big deal.
I guess why I'm writing about it is the fact that it takes me out of my daily routine when I drive by it. I've spent the last week or so anxiously looking to see if the leaves were beginning to turn. I've wasted precious minutes thinking about how to describe the way it looks. Even this morning, despite the fact that I've driven by that tree about 70 times, I still find myself staring at it, wondering why it changes the way it changes, why the colors are so stunning, why it is that I am fascinated by its existence.
Sure there's beauty all around. But not like this.
It's the rarity that makes it magnificent, the simplicity of its beauty. From one color to another in breathtaking fashion. Living in a world where beauty can often be a moving target (have you ever watched Top Model or Project Runway?), it's easy to get confused about what truly makes something beautiful; and in the confusion, it's easy to forget to look for beauty, because you don't know where to find it.
Enter my tree.
I know. I'm a weirdo, and I've now wasted moments of your life on a stupid tree. I wish I could put the feeling into words better. Perhaps the best way to end it all is to just say this:
Sometimes, I just needed to be reminded that simple beauty is magnificent too.
Maybe more so.