The Bare Orchard

I wandered into a dormant orchard, the skeletal branches of the apple trees reaching toward the overcast sky. The ground was hard, dusted with frost, and the air was laced with the faint scent of decaying leaves.

A farmer pruning one of the trees greeted me with a nod. “You might think there’s nothing happening here,” he said, gesturing to the quiet grove. “But even now, deep in the roots, there’s life preparing for spring. Stillness isn’t emptiness—it’s the season of gathering strength.”

His words lingered as I looked at the stark trees with new eyes. The orchard wasn’t barren; it was resting, quietly building the energy it would need for the next bloom. I left with a sense of awe at nature’s wisdom, carrying his insight as a gift from the winter grove.