After 59 years of life, I decide to write about the seasons. In doing so, I face the inevitable possibility that this post will be passed by for the seeming cliche of the colours, sounds and weather of it. Do human beings ever get tired of the seasons? The rituals and festivals that each season offers?
I spend a lot of time making observations of a single pond, the flats and the slopes that move onto those flats. It’s not a large space in area, but it is just perfect for getting up close and noticing the life of it. Given the blessing of this repetitive experience, I am able to see the changes in the wildlife, water fowl, the plant life and the water. The weather imposes its own impact on everything on the space, including my choice of dress, footwear and feeling about it.
With years passing, I’ve got to admit that a person DOES slow down and notice more and mayhaps appreciate the ‘beauty in the simple things’.
I remember requiring my students to keep ‘magic’ journals and it was evident that some of them despised the activity, maybe all of them despised the activity…but I told them to hold on to those journals…shove them in a drawer somewhere…pull them out years later and treasure them. I held onto any pages that some left behind as they bounced out the classroom, tearing toward summer vacation with wild abandon. They wrote about the ‘stuff of life’…times that REALLY mattered.
Just like a friend can not insist and succeed at having their buddy quit smoking, there is no way that an adult can convince youth to slow down and take things in. (in truth, there is no way that an adult can convince other adults to slow down) Life seems to be a rush. Life seems to be about accomplishing more, making more, getting rich, becoming powerful, accumulating wealth and consuming. This is all an illusion. STOP. Literally, smell the flowers. If you STOP long enough to complete that gesture, the time it takes to smell a flower, you will have had time enough to utter, “A Huh” or to connect with something that truly counts…a connection with a memory or a connection with gratitude.
Taking pause is a gift.
I’m including a couple of photographs of the pond at Frank’s Flats that capture the seasons. If I gaze out my kitchen window, I observe the very same story at a single sparrow’s nest. In fact, just before the cold weather blew in for 2014, a male and female fledgling returned to their nest, Mr. and Mrs. long gone. One does not have to travel far, in order to watch the seasons change. This post is written as a dedication to my Uncle Bob, my father’s young brother who ,yesterday, passed from this earthly life, grew wings, and journeyed into the beauty of forever. May his soul rest perpetually, in peace.
Circle by Harry Chapin
“All my life’s a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.
All my life’s a circle;
But I can’t tell you why;
Season’s spinning round again;
The years keep rollin’ by.
It seems like I’ve been here before;
I can’t remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we’ll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There’s no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.
I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It’s like a children’s game;
As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let’s go ’round one more time.