A winter storm dumped tons of snow last night, down as low as 1500 ft. (Auburn). We got married in Auburn, a quaint little mining town of antique shops, restaurants and bookstores. Just like that, what was familiar is dressed up with a fresh coat of Look! Change!
I love the Fall, that glorious umbrella of summer shade that begins its transformation from green to yellow and red to brown. Leaves soothingly trickle down on the wind and gather in swirls at our feet in a crunchy, savory transition. The windows under the big shade tree gradually brighten as we peek between branches, and the room cools and fills with light.
So many places have defined seasons - but not where I live. Our winter sucks. It's fall without the leaves and spring without the green burst of life. Winter here is windy and rainy and sunny and dark, with quick freezes inbetween. It's no wonder the cherry blossoms and daffodils pop out in February rather than April and get shot down.
We have rhythmless seasons, and fall out of tune with what's going on. Our bugs don't die. We have mosquitos in February and flies in December. Early summer trickles into Indian summer, pours into fall and blows through winter.
Change is like that. It is abrupt and terrifying sometimes like eastern seasons, when there's no choice but to deal with it. But more often it is gradual and gentle as a lamb, so subtle in fact, that we scarcely notice it with our busy days and evenings immersed in a good book. By the time it registers on the radar, hey something is different, the jig is up.
Had we been paying attention, we would have seen a thousand subtle unconscious changes we accepted, compass realignments that charted the course to where we are standing. More than likely it's only when spring bursts forth that we look around in astonishment, saying, What, Spring? Again?
No comments:
Post a Comment