I don't have official numbers to confirm this, but I think the "treeb" (a PA Dutch word that means cloudy, misty, and generally miserable) days have outnumbered the golden ones. Earlier in the season, prognosticators explained that the leaves would be unusually spectacular this year.
I waited for the glory. And waited.
Fast forward to recent weeks when the sun barely made a showing, and the forecast offered the following options: "rain, partly cloudy, misty, chance of showers" for five-six-seven consecutive days. As you might imagine, weather whining commenced. It was hard to get any outside work done; the garden looked disheveled and rumpled, like twelve unmade (raised) beds in serious need of attention.
As last winter approached, she was heard to say, "It gets down to like…twenty degrees here, right?" Oh, dear friend…. Even for those of us who have always called this home, last winter was memorable. We'd never heard of a polar vortex, and suddenly we were living it. There were many days when the thermometer never made up to twenty degrees.
So, my friend might have been excused had she arrived that dreary day with a complaint on her lips.
Instead, she took a deep breath, smiled, and said,
"I've realized something…here in Pennsylvania, this time of year,
the sunshine is in the trees."
The. sunshine. is. in. the. trees.
I went on a search for that glory on a day when the clouds hung low and the world seemed doomed to drabness.
who would dare to eliminate such grandeur?
"The sunshine is in the trees. The sunshine is in the trees..."
It did seem as if the radiance had been absorbed into the dying trees for these overcast days.
The thought passed through my mind, "I hope I when I die, I reflect this kind of glory..."
Sometimes I talk to myself,
and sometimes I listen.
This is what I'm hearing right now:
The sunshine is in the trees, HumminB. The sunshine is in the trees.
Watch for it.
Be present, even in this moment that you thought was so dull.
Watch and never stop watching.