As a Californian, I was instantly
enamored with the changing seasons of New England.
In the short two years, of our time in Salem, I
find myself in love with each transition.
No doubt, I'm considered strange
when I tell people that I enjoy shoveling the snow.
Of course, I am reminded that we haven't had a real
winter yet.
Fall is my favorite season, but
then I just become one of those obnoxious "Peepers,"
who swerve wildly on the road for brightly colored
maples.
Yet, it is not the bright leaves
of Fall, nor the sudden birth of the Spring flowers,
nor the gently falling snow caressing the branches
of the barren trees of winter which capture my childlike
intrigue the most. I am captivated each Spring for
one special week, when the seeds of that Great Silver
Maple in our yard, spin like dancing fairies, and
fall to the ground. I know, that I should wrench
with disgust, at every seed which touches down upon
the fertile soil. Rather than fairies, they bear
more similarity to a squadron of attacking helicopters:
each one seeking to take the ground where it lands,
and become one of those nasty Maple Weeds, which
I must extricate from the lawn, and the cracks in
the sidewalk. I am sure that the tree in our yard
is the Great Grandfather of every Silver Maple for
miles around. Not only is it the largest tree in
the neighborhood, it also sheds, what must be, millions
of seeds each Spring. Somehow, the knowledge of
this invasion, and the six to eight large leaf bags
which I will fill with seeds, is not enough to dampen
my silly thrill of that week in which they spin
to ground.
There are some moments in life,
when the invisible God speaks through the wonders
of creation, and teaches us something about Himself.
The Helicopter seeds of the Silver
Maple speak gently to me, and I find myself standing
in the light breeze of the Spring mornings, waiting
for them to fall, and dance around me.
I see in the these seeds, the power
of procreation, as millions of them fall as potential
trees to the earth, but this is not what arouses
my interest.
I see in the seeds of the Silver
Maple, the intelligence of a Creative God, Who understood
the dynamics of flight, and caused the drying of
the seed, to bend the wing just enough for a perfect
helicopter spin.
Yet, this is not what intrigues
me the most. What I see, in this invasion of helicopters,
is the whimsical nature of a loving God, Who desires
to have fun with His Creation.
Like a child, I throw the seeds
back into the air, and laugh as they spin to the
ground. If I have the chance, I will gather neighborhood
kids, and have a helicopter party, to celebrate
their arrival for a few moments of joyous seed tossing.
I have learned that God likes to
have fun, and that He wants to have that fun with
us by His side. That's one reason He gave me a yard
full of helicopters: to remind me each Spring, that
life, and my relationship with Him, should be sprinkled
with a touch of whimsy.
