I’m ready for everything in my yard to die. I know it will all spring back to life next year.
Trees, bushes, grass, flowers, weeds; they’re all overgrown, bright green but simply too abundant. Soon all of nature’s elements here in Middle Tennessee will give a glorious, bright crescendo and then shed their skins, reduced to the bare essentials of twigs, branches, and browns, a certain simplicity amid a long slumber.
I go through phases in my life when I want to accumulate, and then others when I want to shed my possessions and be as minimalist as possible. As I’ve aged, the latter seasons have grown more powerful than the former. I tend to crave more solitude as well.
I’m grateful for four distinct seasons of weather. I like change, but purposeful, transcending change; not a rejection of the season that is passing, but an appreciation for what it meant to me…and an anticipation of the fledgling, temporary season that is coming into focus.
