Seasons, and Those Kind of Seasons

I love autumn. I love the crispness in the air, the way the leaves turn fiery and then hang onto the branches for days so it’s orange above and green beneath. And an overnight wind blows and nobody walks, we all crunch through piles of leaves pretending not to notice the sound. It’s slow and sudden at the same time. Of all the seasons it’s the one that shouts “Change! Time for a reset!” more than any of the others. (If you’re curious, winter groans, spring squeaks and summer sings.) 

And in the meantime, our little puppy is not so little. She’s come into season herself. I was sure I would have a few more weeks but she is 6.5 months old so the poor thing is barking at everything. And sometimes at nothing. Her days of going off leash are over for the moment. It must be frustrating for her – suddenly noticing all these things and yet having her freedom curtailed at the same time. 

There’s been times when my life has been like that – noticing all the changes and yet being pulled back inside myself all at the same time. It was traumatic like autumn can sometimes be – all blustery and suddenly topsy-turvy and what was green now brown. The things that everybody else was so clearly enjoying were not for me. I wanted to make a fuss, and couldn’t .  

And then winter came. And it was cold and dark and hard. And also somehow beautiful. And then spring. And I held my breath because I dared not believe the warmth would last, that the warmth was for me. 

And so it is with seasons, climatalogical or biological or metaphorical. They come. They go. They bring change but they also bring continuity. Because as each season comes and goes we learn this deeper lesson.

This too shall pass.


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