The Seasons Change

I love it when the seasons change.

This is a theme I come back to now and again.

It may just be one of the more consistent subjects I gravitate towards.

Why am I so drawn to it?

I’d say it’s because I love when environmental changes, change people.

For example, I love it when Fall sets in and the air is brisk and a bit chilling and I see someone walk outside and they clutch their coat, shiver a bit and look around to see what’s going on—like someone has done this to them!

Or more deliciously (ha!) when Halloween ends and the very next day people seem to have the Christmas spirit written all over their face—peace and goodwill to men! And its not just because the “red cups” have made their inaugural appearance at Starbucks. Perhaps a little, but yah, thank God the pumpkin spice latte holds on through the Winter months.

And then there is by far my most favorite moment. When. Snow. Falls.

The earth is beaten down. What we admire and walk through the woods to view, blood orange and bright yellow leaves bursting with vibrancy is actually the tree’s final curtain call. They are giving it all they have in the final stretch.

The earth is tired, it’s muddy, and those same beautiful leaves create an epidermis of muck and mire all around. The air even carries a different scent; the smell of burning embers is long gone, and now there is emptiness. The air is cold and absent.

Then it happens. From the sky tiny, seemingly insignificant pieces of clouds fall. One by one they waltz to the earth. Displaying the best example of strength in numbers, they literally take over everything. They blanket the earth, they cover her as she mourns. They insulate her and give her the chance to take a deep breath and hit the reset button. 

I cannot recall how many times I've stood at a window and stared outside as the snow fell and each time, every-single-time, I say to myself, this is just the blank landscape I needed.