At first I worried that something was wrong with the crepe myrtle trees. Their leaves shriveled quickly, as if caught so suddenly by the cold that they didn’t have time to turn, loosen and gently fall to earth.

Then I noticed other trees, other species, with the same condition. This isn’t a disease. This is the crazy Arctic air that’s come south to taunt us.

These trees were minding their own business, heading gently through the season. They were captured still green and growing, led into winter with handcuffs on. At least they put up a fight.

Because yes, it’s reasonable to accept the seasons in one’s climate, place and lifetime. But sometimes it’s necessary to say no, this won’t stand. To cling to what is ours.