I’m delighted in springtime by tiny leaves sprouting and slowly unfurling along bare branches, by the the full green that provides shade in summer, and by the glorious riot of color in autumn. Trees are my favorite part of nature, with every season providing it’s own kind of beauty. However, it’s the bare architecture of trees in winter that draws my gaze the most.

I like the trees that have lived long enough to grow tall and strong, with branches extended this way and that. Branches for owls and hawks to perch on, looking regal and dignified. They’ve been shaped by storms that have freed them from dead wood, some are leaning, stretching to reach more sunlight. Trees large enough to house and feed birds, squirrels and countless, tiny creatures.

It seems as though they would tell me stories of all they’ve seen, if only I could hear them. Stories of old farmhouses and the families who lived there, of fish caught in a nearby pond on Saturday mornings, of picnics and naps as people rested against their trunk.

They hold the wisdom of many years, have see the changes of weather and landscape. They could tell me of stunning sunrises and sunsets, the migration of birds and butterflies, and the delightful shapes of clouds passing by. Maybe even how it tickles their bark when squirrels scamper as they chase one another.

Instead of being saddened by the missing leaves, I’m focusing on what is revealed and considering what is hidden. While admiring the beautiful architecture, I’m also aware of what’s going on under the surface that allows the long lifespan for large trees. I like how their roots spread out and down, seeking water and nutrients while creating stability for themselves and what’s around them.

The next time you’re out and about in nature, I hope you’ll take time to admire their beauty. Perhaps seeing them with new appreciation, even if winter is your 4th favorite season.