Seasonal Changing of… the Guards

If anyone were to ask me what my favorite season is, I would instantly tell them autumn. To me there is nothing better than the smell of a crisp fall day where the leaves are turning, a breeze is blowing, wood smoke is in the air, and the sun is shining and warm. I would take it any day.

But, I have this fascination with the time right before spring starts and winter isn’t quite yet over. When it rains and the birds start coming back, yet there is nothing green to speak of. No crocuses are poking their faces above the ground. No trees are blooming. No green grass sprouting up. But you can feel that spring is just around the corner.

The clouds are different in that in between time. They are misty. They are more puffy and light, yet they can bring on a drizzle in an instant when they pass over. The scud across the sky, moving at a fast rate as the winds blow them to who knows where. They creep up over the mountains and sit there to mist and float away leaving a dusting of snow. They are quixotic, never staying long, never having any particular direction. Sometimes dissipating if the sun warms them up enough. Magical.

And the birds. That first trilling, water in a creek, sound of a meadowlark. Coming out of nowhere to sound like the happiest of songs. A laughing melodic trill that could make anyone smile. Or the completely happy chatter of the first robins coming after a rain. It is a feeling that anyone understands. Spring is coming. The birds know it. They are shouting it to the world. They are telling us.

It is in the fierce gusting strength pushing you along. Whipping and spiraling around. Making the trees bend and sway in an ancient dance. Or in a whispering warm breeze blowing up from the south, bring a sweet, fresh smell. The scent of new earth as if plants are just waiting to burst forth in glory. You can just feel it. You just know it is there, just around the corner. Waiting to shine forth in a surprising display of color and scents.

Yet, while there is that pulsing, impatient sense that everything is going to burst forth at any moment, there is still the clinging sense to winter. The woodsy smoke still issuing from fireplaces to warm our homes. That spicy smell of fallen leaves and decaying matter. The unexpected snowfall that brings back the call of Christmas and times past. A constant struggle for past and future.

I feel it now. Waiting in the wings. I know spring is going to be here in moments. I know that it is going to blaze forth bringing back old friends in the birds and happy little bees buzzing around. I eagerly await the triumph of the season. In each and every season.

So, though I love autumn in all it’s glory, the subtleness of early spring is magical. Elegant and quiet. And it’s almost here. Spring is coming.

 Signing off.


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