Every year, twice a year I get sick; with the onset of fall and again when spring arrives. It is part of the cycle of life that I come to expect. I don’t particularly enjoy having a head cold but there is something therein that I have learned to appreciate. This sickness, as much as I loathe the feeling of not being able to breathe is a threshold, a gate way through which I must pass in order to step into the realm of the next season. For that part, I am grateful, for I know once I return the state of wellness that I will firmly be seated in the providence of the wheel whereby the winds permeating the turning circle will be that of autumn.
Autumn brings several things for me; little things each one, but they all are important signals to my inner self that the time of rest has arrived. I mean this literally and figuratively. Literally because I sleep horribly when it is hot outside, but with the turn of the weather I have rested well. Figuratively because as the harvest and outside oriented activities of summer come to a close we find ourselves able to sit and be in stillness. The final harvest is not here just yet, but it looms.
The arrival of falls brings other things with it that I love, crave, and miss in the hotter weather. It also brings things that by winter’s end I will be ready to cast off. I welcome small fires in the woodstove, warm wool socks, and jeans (cause I mostly wear shorts in summer). In short turn I will be tired of always being cold every time I step foot outside, having to tote gloves, beanie, and coat everywhere, and any snow that lasts more than half a day… my Southern blood declares snow as a novelty that should not be part of the scenery. For now though, I will allow the moment of the season to sing its tune unto my heart.
But all of that is me, and how I immerse myself into the season. How about you? How do you know the season has changed?
"Lost in a thicket bare-footed upon a thorned path."