The Maestro Of Our Orchestra

Fiction By Annie // 12/26/2010

Tall, imposing oak trees the colors of fall parted to form a bay off of the gently flowing river. It was hidden unless you looked for the low branches that one would have to duck under, even in a canoe, to get to this little hide away.

Dark orange, vivid yellow, and turning greens were the colors of the alcove. It was the picture perfect autumn scene. God’s handiwork was written all over this special place, the way every color fit together was better then any interior decorator could try to match.

Hidden within the giant, twisting oaks, a small family of deer stood, blending into the murky shadows and half light that shown through the trees. A small fellow pranced curiously upon the earth. The innocent animal, careful as could be, stepped into the sunlight, and then back to its’ mothers side, trembling at new sights, and smells.

Fuzzy little ducks followed their mother across the water. They were noisy little fellows, and great at multitasking as they learned how to swim, fish, follow their mother and talk all at once. The proud father swam with authority behind the seven ducklings and the mother.

Jagged, dark stones lined part of the shore, where orange and black Monarch butterflies nestled comfortably while resting their wings. Vines climbed over the rocks, and cattails grew in small clumps now and then, their heavy stalks swaying gently in a breeze.

Soft sandy dirt made a small beach between the rocks and the vegetation. Animal prints lead down to the water in several places. Timid deer, masked raccoons, and the occasional mad March Hare print was found in the damp earth.

Lavender plants let off their pungent smell, even though they were entwined among the vines and trees. The purple flowers appeared gem like as the morning sun filtered through the oaks and cast light upon the violet blooms.

A melody was produced as a soft breeze blew through the tall oak trees surrounding the small bay. The crackling of fall leaves served as a soft melody. The swaying of the oak branches was the rhythm much like a soft classical guitar would sound like. The crickets chirping along were similar to background singer, while the breeze whistled as the singer. All the while, Mother Nature held everything together as the maestro of her orchestra, much like God is the maestro of our own lives…His own orchestra of life. 


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