Sharing another post from the archives.
A friend of mine dreads autumn because it heralds the coming of winter, which she hates. To me that’s like not wanting summer to come because Thanksgiving will follow, or disliking spring rains because of the impending summer’s heat. At first glance it’s irrational. I do understand, however, that for this friend winter means more hours of darkness and nasty weather, both of which keep her housebound. So I shouldn’t belittle her dread.
While I’m not a winter sport enthusiast, living someplace where the weather is consistently warm doesn’t appeal much to me either. I love the diversity of our seasons. I’m not sure which is my favourite. In March I claim spring is — the season of discovery with all its new growth, vibrant greens, and the return of birds, bees and butterflies. By June I’m praising sun-soaked days in the garden and anticipating vacation time at the lake. September replaces summer’s laziness with a crisp edge of colour, energizing me into more ambitious pursuits. Then December arrives and amid the inconvenience of blustery weather there are cosy sweaters, fireside visits, the wonder of Christmas, silent snow-filled January skies. Winter’s a time to hunker down and plan ahead — plan for the coming springtime.
The orderly rotation of seasons gives a sense of permanence to life.
Today I think autumn is my favourite season. I think I’ll go for a walk through our rain-washed woods to inhale the earthiness and admire all the turning leaves. I’ll complain about raking them up later.
Which is your favourite season? And, just to be ornery, what DON’T you like about each season? Do you find it easier to settle down to your writing in one season better than in the others?
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” (Eccl.3:1)