My sunroom is all windows so you feel like you’re sitting in a little nature preserve.

It’s peaceful, particularly now that the leaves are starting to fall and a breeze has rolled in.

The birds and squirrels mill about the yard, crunching across rust-colored leaves as they prepare for the chill to come.

A giant tree towers above the sunroom like a peaceful parasol. There’s something about its silent solidness. I wonder how such a huge tree can survive on so little – just the rain, the sun and the air – and why in the world such tall things don’t topple over.

The key is self-pruning.

Every so often, that tree will drop weighty branches that it doesn’t need anymore, ones that have rotted or overgrown.

That tree speaks to me without words. Let go of what doesn’t serve you.

Pain from the past, fears for the future. What might have been. It just weighs you down if you don’t release it. Once you let go, you’ll find you’ve cleared space for new growth. Seasons change, and life goes on.