Tamarack Tears

October brought a light coverlet of snow early that first year at Light Point Pond. I was circling the perimeter discovering new found territories and learning the sights and sounds of the encompassing landscape. As I came upon a small grove of Tamarack trees I was stopped in my tracks by the striking sight of the shedding trees. Dropping their needles in a haste and a frenzy much like a small child rushing home already late for his Sunday dinner.

Shedding their prior summer’s coat of growth the air was so full of tiny golden brown needles it choked out any deeper view of the trees above and behind. They carpeted the ground and recent snowfall, building their own fortress and blanket of warmth as if trying to protect their trunks and roots from the soon to come deep winter frosts.

It appeared as if they were crying silent tears. Not so much tears of pain or discomfort. More a joyful falling, letting go. Accepting as a part of the cycle of nature to shed and release this year’s lessons of growth and prepare for winters rest only to grow and shed new lessons yet again next year.

I never came upon this particular sight again the bold contrast of white and gold. Snows either came too late or didn’t stay around long enough to be blanketed by the tiny tears. This morning as I circled the perimeter I was once again greeted by the shedding trees. Dropping their few remaining needles desperately falling ahead of the soon to come snowfalls. Falling to the ground louder than snowfall but quieter than raindrops laying their annual blanket, an array of golden, brown, and yellow needles, they will always remind of Tamarack tears.