Who says gray heather isn't beautiful?

Sitting on the bench, my mind drifts to a previous stroll. I followed a narrow path through the expansive heathland, pondering: why does the heather bloom only once? Why not every month? It looks so dull now.

Look, gray heather 👇

The Heather Cycle
But after some research on heather plants, I realized it's unfair to always expect blossoms. Heather has a life cycle synchronized with the seasons. First, it prepares for bloom, then it flourishes, produces seeds, takes a nap, and gears up for a new bloom.

Who Says Gray Heather Isn't Beautiful?
As I sit by a small heath field, the sun surprisingly breaks through, casting a golden glow over the pine trees. The heather is a shimmering spectacle! Who says gray heather isn't beautiful?

From My Diary
November 22

Garlands and Thoughts

Garlands with white pearls dangle from branch to branch: spiderweb threads with droplets. The wind gently blows through. It's like a party on the heath.

Who cares for the heath in its resting season? Who inspired me to take a walk? Who orchestrated this exact moment? Who grants me the ability to enjoy the sun, wind, and the sparkle of spiderweb threads? I look up: my God and Father.

End of diary excerpt

Capturing Glimmers and an Encounter
'Capture the glimmers!' whispers my camera. I grab my camera, but it's not cooperating; it looks more like a cold winter scene. A man strolls by, and his dog barks as if I committed a crime.

"Back in the day," the man says, "there was a path through the heath leading down. I'm going to see if I can find it."

Where's the Old Path?
Off he goes. I watch him until he becomes a tiny dot. His dog stops barking, and I see the man bending down to pick up the pup in his arms. Thus, he wrestles through the tall heather bushes downward. The path is overgrown. There's simply no path anymore. Or is there?

Eyes Closed, Listening
I'm 'glued' to the bench. It's better for my knee to take a real 15-minute break, so I close my eyes. Behind me, a titmouse chirps in the woods, and a finch. I also hear a leaf falling, and another... soft taps; as if it's raining. Whisper-soft.

Lesson from the Heather
When I open my eyes, the gray heather is still sparkling. It teaches me a lesson. Listen to what it says:

I, the heather...

💜 ... need rest to rejuvenate. So do you.
💜 ... need a gray season to find myself again. So do you.
💜 ... will bloom again. So will you.

From Gray to Glitter
And that glimmer? That's where I see my God. He brightens up my gray heath with unexpected encounters, the beauty of nature, the love of my husband, or His own promises. Yes: from gray to glitter.

Moving On
Refreshed, I rise from the bench and make my way downhill. Where no path seemed to be, there is a path.

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show." - Andrew Wyeth

🍂✨ What small (autumn) moment in nature has taught you a lesson?