Watching the trees change again

A quiet thought about growth without rush
image created with Ai

A shift you barely notice

I walked past the same tree three times this week before I saw it had changed. The leaves that were pale and closed last week are now stretching into green, quietly filling the branches without any fanfare.

No trumpet, no announcement, just a slow becoming.
And I thought, this is how it happens.
This is how growth works most of the time.
Quietly, gradually, somewhere in the background.

We do not wake up different overnight.
We change the way the trees do.

The pressure to be further along

There is often a quiet restlessness in me that thinks I should be more ahead than I am. That I should already know how to do this, already be back to myself, already have figured out the next step.

But then I look at the tree, and I remember that it never rushes. It doesn’t worry about being behind. It simply follows the light.
And somehow, that is enough.

We are so used to looking for big signs of progress. Proof that we are moving forward. Evidence that something is happening. But some seasons are not about rushing toward change. They are about standing still and letting the light do its work.

What is quiet is still real

You do not have to bloom loudly for it to count.
You do not have to reinvent yourself by Monday.
You do not have to explain why it is taking time.

There is so much happening in the quiet.
In the resting. In the pausing. In the small decisions that no one sees.
And none of it is wasted.

The trees do not apologise for taking time.

They do not doubt the process just because the buds are slow to open.
They just keep reaching upward, even when no one is watching.

Let it take the time it takes
Maybe the most generous thing we can do for ourselves right now is to stop asking for speed.
Stop asking for clarity before it’s ready.
Stop pushing for change before it has rooted itself.

And instead, just stay close to the moment.
Keep noticing what is softening.
Keep moving gently toward the light, whatever that means to you.

It does not need to be dramatic to be real.
It does not need to be finished to be beautiful.

A small wondering

So I’m wondering today, as I sit with a warm drink and a mind that is still a bit quiet,
What if you are already becoming, even if you cannot see it yet?
What if the shift is happening quietly, just like the trees?

Not every season asks for action.
Some just ask for patience.

Warm greetings from a slowly watching the seasons shift mom