On Beech Trees and Routine

Let me start by saying that my husband is an arborist and extreme tree enthusiast. We can’t go anywhere without pausing to look at the trees and notice their magnificence. I don’t naturally take in the grandeur of these ever-present leafy friends, but by his side I have learned to take a moment (or seven) and notice their magic. 

Today, I was observing a Beech tree that is particularly loved by my hubby. It is just across the street from where we live, so we stop to look at this tree often (read: my husband often stops and I follow suit, sometimes willingly, and sometimes with an air of annoyance depending on how much patience I have mustered that day). 

What I noticed today about this Beech tree was the complete and utter beauty of its leaves. This was the first time since the leaves appeared this spring that I really saw them. They are this lush green with some red that is almost iridescent in the sunlight. Today, those leaves took my breath away. 

Then I started wondering about what really took my breath away. What makes those leaves so amazing and breathtakingly beautiful? Why did I notice them? 

I began to think about how those leaves might not seem quite so magnificent without the massive trunk and intricately intertwined branches of this impressive tree. Maybe the leaves were beautiful, but they’re beauty was compounded by the structure holding them up. The structure behind those leaves makes them all the more beautiful. 

That realization seems profound. You see, as a human being, I crave structure and routine in my life, but the spontaneous spirit inside me often decides to rebel against these desires. 

Structure feels like something boring and ugly and plain. I know that a regular rhythm and routine in my life is good and necessary. I know that having a normal schedule makes me feel more at peace, but I sometimes wonder if my structure is making me miss out on some of the most beautiful things in life.

That friendly neighborhood Beech tree taught me something today. It taught me that structure and routine and schedule and organization might seem plain, and maybe they sometimes are, but beauty can certainly come from structure. If that tree didn’t take time, to build its structure and assemble an impressive array of branches, those leaves would not have a space to display beauty. 

That tree taught me that there is a place for beauty in structure. It taught me that the work and effort of building structure in my life are worth it because they are making room for beauty to be displayed. 

Today, that tree helped me to see that structure in my life doesn’t just have to be a “should”; it can be a “want to,” because I surely want my life to be a place the world sees beauty. I’m not getting rid of all spontaneity in my life, but I do have a new admiration and respect for routine. Routine might get a bad rap, but it can be a conduit of incredible beauty.

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