The changing of the seasons

20 Comments

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I have come to the long overdue conclusion that January is my least favorite month.  Although I think winter is a stunning portrait of arctic beauty, January seems to hold some sort of malice for those who live in colder climates.  Looking at the picturesque view of the snow clinging to the trees with the backdrop of a clear blue sky makes it slightly more bearable, but with that beauty in the forefront, the beast still lurks in the background.  Skies become overcast and scattered patterns of flakes stipple the grey sky.  They fall, lightly at first and in swirling random patterns, hypnotizing those in their path with their ethereal beauty.  But the flakes are unending.  They churn in the wind, they seem to multiply before they hit the ground and as the temperature drops, they are frozen to their place.  Individual patterns of  ice combine to create the tomb of winter.

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I long for the first days of Spring.  I yearn for that pungent aroma of newly awakened earth and the smell of fresh-cut grass permeating the air.  I want more than to just witness the sun rising to meet a new day, I crave the feeling of its warming embrace.  My heart aches for the days I can sit on my deck and simply watch the world grow new life.  The birds of spring return and welcome me to a new season with their cheerful songs.  Life lurks in the trees waiting to be born.  The growing buds of young leaves begin to blossom and create the enchanting garden of nature that surrounds my home, and the frogs sing me to sleep with their soulful lullabies.  And during my slumbers, the birth of spring rapidly matures and grows into summer.

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Primary hues of blue and green reflect in the lake as the sun casts its glow on the rippling waves.  Everything the sun touches turns to gold.  The days are long, the heat from the sun saturates the earth and the feeling of warmth is absorbed by everything in its path of light. The summer wind bends its way through the leaves and the laughter of the trees is echoed in the breeze.  Flowers arch to meet the sun and blossom in its radiance. The world breaths life and the days are so long they seem to go on forever.  This is bliss.  Sun meets skins and kisses away the pallid color that winter left behind.  It is replenished with the deep, lovely hue of bronze.  The heat of the day seeps into the night and swells of laughter are carried on the wind.

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The warmth in the autumn days wanes and is caressed by the touch of the cool night air.  The vibrant colors of red and orange are etched into the memory of the cobalt sky as it gradually darkens and welcomes the stars.  Morning dew blankets the earth and the light of each day grows shorter.  Leaves turn to brown and wither before they perform a macabre dance of death, swirling through crisp air on their way to meet the ground.  The smell of decay penetrates the air and the trees stand naked, ready to be cloaked in their winter coats.

I truly love where I live.  I appreciate the vibrant colors that Mother Nature splashes on each blank canvas as she creates a new season.  I awake each morning to see how many new brush strokes have been added to the masterpiece that she had been so carefully painting the previous day.  While I do see the beauty in winter, I can be happy knowing February is just around the corner and the palette of colors is being replenished so the creator of each season of beauty can begin to paint us into spring.

20 thoughts on “The changing of the seasons

  1. Not sure if January or February is my least liked.
    But the approach of the first day of spring always fills me with anticipation and hope.

    And I hope they get your water sorted soon if they haven’t already…

  2. The birds in our backyard seem a bit confused this winter, including a gigantic robin who has taken to keeping us company. We do our part to keep them well fed.

  3. Perhaps if I lived further north I’d feel differently, but winter is my favorite season. I hate rain and I hate being hot.

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