I’m partial to pecan trees, I admit it. In part, this is because of their cautious nature–they are philosophers. There are two ash trees nearby, and several pecans in the front yard. These two trees have different ways of approaching spring. In the early days of warmer weather, when the rest of the flora is frolicking in the sun, the pecan folds its arms and waits. Like a grumpy old man, he’s standing a bit aloof from the childish antics of his neighbors. The pecan tree does not go with the crowd, and the crowd sure is going early this year. Ash trees, on the other hand, rush into spring before anyone else knows it’s there.
There are flowers coming up in the yard. The reckless ash trees are already getting their first budding leaves. It’s a strange feeling this February, like things are a little askew. While nature is following its own laws, and a lot of plants and animals have already jumped fully into spring, I’m feeling more like the pecan tree. Let’s hold on a minute. I’m not sure, and I don’t guess anyone is, if this is one of the fabled false springs Texas is known to pull, or if it’s the real thing, but I’m feeling more like a-watching and a-waiting. I heard a man say his fruit trees were blooming already. He was worrying it’s far too early for that to happen.
It’s hard to tell what this year holds for us. It’s hot one day, cold the next, with massive fires in the panhandle, wars breaking out in different places and the price of everything going up, it feels like even the weather itself seems to be on a bit of a roller coaster. I’ve cut way down on listening to national news. It’s too full of drama and fear ginning. I’d rather learn from things that speak to my soul than to take in all the furor, name-calling and turmoil that other stuff brings into a person. If you ask me, there are more important lessons in what the trees choose to do than in all the anxious over breathing on the television, so I take my own questions and worries, sit down beside a tree, and think about it all. Trees have their own way of teaching things to people who take time to listen.
Sometimes there are hard decisions in life. Being cautious can end up hurting you, you can miss opportunities, or try to protect yourself from danger only to find out the danger comes from a direction you couldn’t predict. On the other hand, jumping right into something without observation and thought can make difficulties as well. It seems to me, an evenhanded approach is best when things are uncertain. A little bit of caution like the pecan trees have, a little bit of risk like the ash, some waiting and seeing, some planting and moving forward. While I appreciate a pecan more than an ash, maybe because I’m inclined to philosophy myself, I do see both have their own brand of knowledge. None of us can predict the future.
There is one thing all trees, both the cautious and the ‘you only live once’ types, show us, and this is how to stand. The trees know to seek the light and reach for it, regardless of which way things go around us. We might make a good decision, or a bad one, but learning to stand in what is true regardless of the outcome is a deeper way of being that will aid us in times of turmoil or confusion. We can’t always be right, but we can be grounded in faith. Watching all of this uncertainly unfold reminds me of an old spiritual song about this lesson from a tree, “I shall not be moved, I shall not, I shall not be moved. Just like a tree planted by the water, I shall not be moved.”
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Diane Adams is a local journalist whose columns appear Thursdays on BrownwoodNews.com
