As we move toward colder times and snow here in Vermont, I, for one, am delighted to once again see the leaves down and the “bones” of the trees silhouetted against the sky. In the middle of our short days that blue sky is the perfect complement to the black lines along the mountain tops. Last night at dusk the sky was a mix of shades of gray, dark but still with just enough light to see the branches begin to disappear into the night. In the dawn light tomorrow I know I’ll again see a handful of small birds—probably chickadees—flitting from branch to branch looking for food—insects, eggs, buds—anything that might get them started into the day.
All this is beautiful, yes, but of course, I can come inside to get warm, have a cup of coffee or a bowl of hot soup. More and more of us don’t have that as an option. Although Vermont has the dubious tag of having the second highest population per capita of unhoused people, the dark sweep of this horrifying brush paints the other forty-nine states as well.
And these are not nameless, faceless people, nor the evil migrants some would have us believe. How do I know? Not from bogus news stories but from personal experience! We prepare, serve and share a meal every week with well over one hundred people who are in these situations. They are not much different than me or you. Rather they are just in rough places, places that I’d find impossible to get out of.
I have no doubt all of this will get much worse in the next four years. As the stock market continues to surge and the wealthy get only more so, as most of the rest of us have to make hard choices about where to spend what is left, too many will have less and less of what is essential to live a full life or in many cases, any life at all.
Living in a tent or a car, often with children, seems impossible. Be clear it is not “camping out!” The emotional and physical damage done is beyond imagining though I saw some of the impact yesterday as a man in the grocery store began shouting “Get off me! Go away!!” all to what I assume was a demon in his head. These are not isolated incidents; rather it is what happens when we don’t care enough for each other to have life be viable.
I don’t know how to hold these horrors side by side with the beauty of the trees against the winter sky but I know both exist, and as comforting as the latter is, the pain of the former is all-consuming today. And I find when I talk to others I must mention both. If not, I’m just not telling the truth about what life is for me these days.
Still Learning To See 
Thank you again John for your words. Not just lovely photos of nature and poetic narrative, but the shadows with the sunshine, the contrasts of life that we must see.
Thanks, Sis. I know you too have long lived with the contrasts. Hugs
there is a Cortland apple tree in my backyard in Middlebury that fed me all Fall. And apples shared. I like seeing apple trees around town that are accessible to everyone.
Yes, we’ve managed to plant more and more public fruit and nut trees in Montpelier. Plums and tart cherries are both doing very well.