It was a tree, bright green and slender in front of my neighbor's house. But the green wasn't perfect: the tips of the branches were as red as a New England autumn. It looked as though the residents had used the limbs as paintbrushes for a sunrise.
I thought about the beauty of the picture as I was driving past and the thought back to my Living with Plants class. There is a scientific reason for the leaves furthest from the trunk changing color first (and it's fascinating and I would be happy to tell you about it sometime), but tonight I didn't want to think about the science behind the beauty. It was enough for me to imagine that the tree had collected a little bit of the sunset to better grasp the memory. Because that is something I have not yet been able to do.
