gratitude-a-thon day 55: the change in season

111008-trees-relaxin-waterland

It was in the air yesterday. That undeniable change that means we are in the clear. The snow has shipped off to some other miserable and cold place. And replacing it?  Sunny days, budding flowers, and blossoming trees. HOT DAMN. I am always fascinated by Mother Nature’s clock. It will be snowing, and then one day, the whole thing turns around and some threshold has been crossed, and spring has sprung. I know I could be jinxing us by talking about winter being a thing of the past, but c’mon it’s March 14. (yeah, I remember the April 1 snowstorm, WHO COULD FORGET THAT THING?)

Being a New Englander my whole life, I have come to appreciate the seasons for their mega-beauty and their ability to tolerate immense change. There’s no better model to look at, than the four seasons (No, not Frankie Valley) to understand how to roll with the kind of change I’m facing. Consider the trees. In the Summer, they’re wearing their full regalia– vibrant green leaves, flashy and flirty. October rolls in like a surfer’s wave, and suddenly the trees are turning all sorts of colors, flying their fancy hues, but also forced to face their demise, morphing into brown and tattered clothing, and ultimately gathered into large groups and carted off to leaf heaven. (In the suburbs, some are cremated. May they rest in peace.) And then the winter blows in, and those poor trees hang on for dear life. They’re forced to face the bitter cold, the icy snow without the aid of their protective leafy snowsuits. Not their best moment. But they stand tall, and just wait. Wait for better times. And then comes March, a day like yesterday, and that tree knows that things are about to get interesting. The sun warms those bare branches and pretty soon, it’s like SHOPPING TRIP TO THE MALL!

I am always talking about how I want to live in a warmer place because I don’t like the cold (Let’s be real: I fucking HATE THE COLD.), but I am grateful for the seasons, and how they mimic our lives.  And ok, I suppose I might miss them a little bit, if I were to move somewhere without them. But for now, I’m just going to use them as a teacher, a natural guide, a little lesson for me, direct from Mother Nature.

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