All the breathtaking charm of the autumn season stops me in my tracks sometimes and fills my heart with the feel of cozy togetherness and reprioritizes my focus on the simple things. The cool breeze, the warmth of a fire, the flicker of candles flavoring the air, the cinnamon and nutmeg spiciness I add to my morning coffee, the softness of the quilts piled one, then two, then three thick on our bed to bring all the hygge comforts, and even my favorite sherpa-lined slippers for scuffing about the house and for porch sitting.
I began taking pictures of a tree on our farm in September here in rural Georgia so I could see the changes over the time span of a month or so. It’s one of my favorite views from my seat on the front porch, a place of birdwatching and reading, of talking and sipping a cup of hot tea at the end of the day, of phone conversations and FaceTimes with children and grandchildren across the miles, of prayer and meditation, of writing.
I’ve always wondered what they would say “if these trees could talk,” and perhaps in this modern age of AI, even the trees will start communicating with us and each other. If they do, this is the tree that would someday tell my story better than any other tree of my middle-age years.
Please meet my faithful friend in these photographs. She reminds me that cleaning out, renewing, and regenerating in a new and different season is a blessing and a lovely way to grow. And that every season is one to celebrate.
Thanks for reading today! I’m raising a mug of hot apple cider to you and waving my scarf in knitted kinship!
Common Threads 
Kim,
I love the pictures. I bet that tree communicates w/ the trees behind her and maybe shared observations about you on the orch. I don’t have a porch big enough for sitting, but I do watch the quaking aspen in our front yard from my living room couch, which is where I sit on mornings I’m not working and drink my coffee. It’s often where I go to sit alone. I’m the only one who uses the room. Maybe I’ll photograph that tree next spring and through the fall to record and have a record of all its changes. I feel them in my bones anyway.
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Thank you, Glenda! I love the idea of a spring tree awakening from winter.
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Fall foliage is one of the things that makes autumn my favorite season. Driving around Central PA has been beautiful for the past few weeks. But now, the leaves are really starting to fall off of the trees. I’m letting go of autumn with trepidation. We’ve had a ROUGH fall with my husband’s surgical recovery. I wish there had been enough time to enjoy it. {Sigh.}
Raising a mug of apple cider to you too!
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Stacey, I’m glad your husband is on the mend. Winter will hold extra joy now.
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Thank you for sharing your beautiful view with us! I love watching the trees slowly change from all green to subtle hues of yellow to vibrant oranges or if I’m lucky fiery reds. Your entire Slice gave me feelings like I was reading an excerpt from Anne of Green Gables. Raising a mug of apple cider to you as well!
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Thank you, Anna! I love those fiery reds too! I’ve seen a few.
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What a lovely and clever idea, to follow the tree’s many moods and ways over the seasons. The photo that is second to last is absolutely breathtaking – the tree blends in with its background tree community in such a way, I am reminded of a twinkling beaded curtain, and left wondering – where does one tree begin and end?
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Thank you, Maureen. I have some twinkle lights I often project onto the tree. Interesting where one begins and ends. Thanks for reading!
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Kim, I remember that you were taking regular photos of this beauty. I’m so glad I got to see the progression. I am going to go make a cup of cinnamon tea now in honor of this Kim-tree doppelganger and you. Happy autumn!
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Your post read like a poem. And the images of the change helps us see the connection.
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What a gift you’ve shared with us. I loved hearing all the things that happen from your seat on the porch. Trees have much to teach us if we listen.
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