November 2019 • Nebraskaland 47
The propeller-like seeds of the green ash tree stand ready
to be carried by the winter wind.
W
ith winter coming, though, all of that vegetation
knew it would not have enough light and water
to keep the food factory going, so it shut down
after one last treat of vibrancy. As chlorophyll broke down,
those greens turned to fantastic yellows and reds and
masked closure beneath a façade of brilliance.
Later, a leaf or two fell. Soon, they blanketed the ground,
becoming brown and leaving nothing but spindles of bark
above. Those trees and plants had entered their annual
slumber waiting for spring's alarm clock to wake them, as
it seems had our senses. The stages come slowly enough to
save us from startling. We get our doses of color in snowfall,
ice and evergreen trees.
