ARMADA OF GOLD

Though we’ve had some definite touches of springtime already — it was 80 degrees yesterday and trees are swollen with new buds — trees are still wintry in appearance. Branches are barren and sunlight easily finds its way to the forest floor.

One of my favorite trees in the forests here where I live is the American Beech. Silver, mottled, carvable bark. Thick, straight, imposing trunks. Sprawling, low-hanging limbs. And along with those appealing traits is its tendency to hold its leaves throughout the winter. Even after they’ve changed in autumn from green to bright yellow to dull gold, they hang on somehow until spring arrives. Then, when baby leaves begin to form as thin torpedo-shaped buds, the old ones give way to later winter breezes, turn loose, and depart with a flourish.

It’s been happening all morning

When I glanced out the window a little while ago, there was a beautiful downpour of gold confetti, in every way like a flock of small birds, blowing from treetops into the pond. The retired leaves, having endured the stresses of winter, are paper-thin, feather-light, and exuberant in flight. When they touched down lightly on the water, they looked like a flock of miniature golden geese, a flotilla of fishing skiffs, an armada of gold.

And now, they move gracefully wherever the water pushes them. Glad surrender.

The Latin name for American Beech is Fagus Grandifolia. Grand. Sounds about right.