Looking forward to Springs approaching, helps release me from the strongholds of melancholy I feel in the fall, lingering into the winter. I know, most people love the third season, it is many of your favorite time of year. Fall is one of God’s most beautiful creations. As the canvas changes from green to magnificent accents of yellow, orange and red, the other foliage follows suit to match the landscape. It is an awesome wonder, but it overwhelms me with the unrelenting need to escape it. For me, the moment I smell the change in the air, you know it well, the innate knowing that the season is changing, leaving behind the dregs of summer, blowing forth the end of another year. I feel vulnerable and apprehensive, left behind to weather the storm. It is at those times I would like to retreat, crawl under my rock and hibernate. In this, I am sure is inherent in my raising. When the deadness of fall gradually sets in, I accept that I will have to wait, to wait for Old Man Winter to exit his season. Even though, cold, harsh and oftentimes unable to weather his outside storm, life is seen, as when a stray cardinal lingers on the fence to say hello, especially if we are lucky and he is back-dropped against a silty, white snow. You wonder, against that white if his red color could ever be replicated. However, the same sense of smell that ends my beautiful summer, also brings forth the smell of spring and it awakens the life in me. The first bud, hint of green, birds nesting, and the smell of honeysuckle remind me of life and those I love. The newness of Spring gives back my giving spirit, releasing me to be creative, constructive, imaginary and welcome like a spring thunderstorm. It allows the beauty of colors only seen this time of year to burst forth without orders. It uninhibits the vines to crawl along the fences, branch out in all directions as if truly alive, with a heart that beats. Spring is short, a resurrected time from dormancy that brings forth the most beautiful memories and some of the most devastating ones as well. Mother nature demands respect in all seasons, but especially the spring. For she too is most alive this time of year, unrelenting in her own unpredictability and expense. As Spring steps forward daily, she too must give up her crown, to my favorite second season. Although her heat on my face is burning, she relaxes me, often drawing me to the coolness of water, to ice, to remnants of the seasons I struggle with. No season lasts very long, they turn into years and years turn golden. I want to say “Good Morning Spring” every season, for life is the most awesome creation ever made.
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