I walked outside this morning, as I oft do, to enjoy the morning with my fresh brewed black coffee. I saw there were several leaves on my round glass table. They're from the old maple tree, a few yards from my door. It's a good tree, old, strong, and vibrant. (Not real old; I'd estimate about the same age as me.)

In my part of the world, it's still spring, entering summer. I thought it odd that a tree would be molting in spring, so I pondered, I wondered, I mused, as I looked at my old friend.

And what I realized is that sometimes change requires that we shed even new growth. We grow new leaves, sometimes an abundance of leaves, sometimes too many new leaves, and were we to keep them all, they'd be a bit of a burden.

So we shed leaves in fall, to rest for the winter, but also in spring, to make the whole of us stronger. The remaining leaves are then allowed to flourish.

It's a process of self-pruning, not only the old, but sometimes the new.

Change is like that, for the old tree, for the new leaves, for the old me, and the new.

Love and giggles,