End of October: last year and now

Last year's end of October found me tree-watching but for quite a different reason than this year's tree-watching activities. This is the tale of two Octobers and two sets of trees... This is a pause to remember the way things were last year at this time and to be thankful for the way things are this year as October comes to a close.

In a day or two, trick-or-treaters will be scurrying through neighborhoods all over the country. In Naples, Florida last Halloween there was no trick-or-treating. It was deemed too dangerous. Hurricane Wilma had unleashed her wrath on us. In her path she felled trees and in doing so, took out many powerlines. She also left standing water of great depths in many streets and so much storm debris that it was just not safe for people to be out on the streets after dark.

I didn't think much about Wilma this month - until I had the uncanny thought that I was spending so much time watching trees change - slowly, deliberately and beautifully... And that last year, in a matter of hours, trees had changed in not so typical ways. Last year's changes were not beautiful. They were sad and terminal. The October 2005 tree changes I saw were not yearly occurrences... they were, hopefully, once in a lifetime observations that I hope never to see again.

These are the beautiful banyan trees that have been the subject of more than one bit of my writing over the years. Their roots give the appearance of an embrace. Their aged structures offer shade under lush green canopies to passersby.
For the thirty or so years that I lived in Naples, I found them to be a romantic reminder of Mother Nature's beauty.

These palms, no longer gently swaying in the balmy gulf breezes, became the harbingers of what Wilma had in store for us - her path heading right toward Naples. Sometimes, as Wilma approached, they seemed to bow in half under the sheer force of her wind strength. This sort of tree-watching I could do without.

In the aftermath of Wilma's fury, my 30-year hometown of Naples was forever changed. This is a picture of one of the main intersections of the downtown shopping area - usually filled with tourists and traffic, hours after Wilma it was filled with gulf waters instead.

Out on a walk to inspect Wilma's impact on my neighborhood, I spied the saddest of all sights: Those gorgeous banyan trees were unable to withstand the force of Wilma's wind and fury. They were uprooted- lifted right out of the ground as if they were toothpicks instead of rootbases that stood some ten feet above ground when toppled on their sides... The incredible sadness I felt as I saw these trees is something I am still at a loss to describe.

Fast forward to end of October 2006... No longer in Naples, Florida and therefore no longer in "hurricane alley," I found myself anticipating a new (actually a very familiar and old) form of tree-watching: the much anticipated "leafing" experience that people search for in areas where autumn is season of reds, golds, and oranges.

These tree changes are a welcome sight. These, too, are the handiwork of Mother Nature. But in this case, her work is lovely to behold. A wonderful reminder of the cyclic nature of life. A gentle nudge toward the cooler temperatures and shorter days ahead.

This year, my tree-watching is breathtaking, invigorating. This year, I monitor the wind by the gentle movements of the scarecrow windsock on my back porch and the soft tunes of the windchimes. Quite a change from the way in which I observed wind in motion last year! A much preferred pasttime to say the least.

I'll take this end of October's tree watching activities over last year's anyday! Here's to Autumn in the beautiful mountains of Northeast Tennessee - a far more beautiful place than the 2005 version of Naples, Florida!