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“Four Seasons” blog

Feb 15th, 2010 by Mary | 0

“Four Seasons” sounds like a great idea – for a restaurant, at least. It is fun to shut our eyes and do a roll call of the seasons. Spring, with crocuses and daffodils and pussy willows bursting into full bloom to successfully challenge the muted monotoned palette of winter’s whites and grays. Then summer, redolent of the fragrances of fresh grass being mowed, a juicy watermelon gracing a checkered picnic table in a park by a river. Fall with its multi-colored leaves –red, orange, yellow – swirling around our heads and crunching satisfyingly under our feet, their accumulated piles pulling the conscientious raker into a wild, surprisingly strong desire to leap into them headfirst. Then winter, an iconic picture of children building snowmen and –women on the front lawn, the temptation to reach down and form the snow at one’s feet into a ball and fling it at a tree, or later sipping a cup of hot chocolate while watching the gently falling snow transform the yard into a winter wonderland.  

And then . . . reality strikes. Getting up this morning, I found out that –yet again – a monthly meeting had been cancelled because of the weather. I probably could have guessed when Sheryl and I were driving home from church yesterday and where wind-driven drifting snow literally reduced visibility to close to zero. After letting the dogs out into the snow-covered yard, following them back to their kennel, I slipped because of the ice still clinging to my shoes, landed on my wrist and banged my head into the wall. I took the last ibuprofen last night, so will have to make do until the road into town is safer. No mail today either, so the wildflower seeds I ordered two weeks ago that the sellers claimed could be broadcast on top of the snow will not be here either. The recycling centers in adjoining towns are always open but we are on a winter snow advisory, with frozen roads and occasional white-outs.

  On yet another day where the weather dictates just about everything, I just want to go into overdrive, toughing it out, acting as if winter had no power over me or my daily routines. I’d like to go outside and hammer stakes into the ground to mark where I will dig the holes for my so far just imagined fruit orchard and mark out the perimeters of my raised bed garden and deer and rabbit fence, but the ground underneath the snow, which has kept us from seeing our yard for over three months, is frozen.

  It makes me want to wave a magic wand and forcibly bring about spring. Yet . . . the message, unwelcome so often, says . . . wait. Wait some more. And then, yet again, wait. It reminds me of the famed passage from Ecclesiastes, from the pen of a wisdom writer who lived over two thousand years ago:

  “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” (3:1-2)

  So, like it or not, today I have – yet again – a stark choice placed in front of me: to chafe against the weather-constraining limitations overturning what I had planned, or . . . yield the “control” I keep thinking I have over my own life. So. . . what will it be?

  Excuse me. I need to make a cup of chocolate and watch the birds eat their breakfast. How could I have ever thought that couldn’t be enough for this day?

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