I love watching the seasons change. All four are special in their own ways. Each one has different meanings, different feelings, and different memories. Winter is my favorite, but spring and autumn to me are the most significant. I believe it is because of the pronounced change that occurs with each, and how they are directly related to winter, only in opposite ways. One is going into winter; the other is leaving it. Spring is the birth of new life. Babies are born, flowers burst into bloom and the grass explodes into the most brilliant green. The cold of winter disappears, replaced by the most healing warmth. The sharpness of grays and pale blues fades in the vibrancy of pinks, and purples, and yellows, and reds. A sense of newness and expectancy lies in the gentle whisper of the warm springs rains and the clear sunshiny days. The end of school is approaching, and the beginning of summer’s bliss is within sight. No longer is everyone bogged down by the belief that winter might never end. Beauty is beckoning and bringing hope. And if you stand still, sometimes you can hear music singing through the air.Autumn is a time of dying, which is beautiful in its own way, since it carries on the circle of life, but often times sad and dreamy. Trees lose their leaves, gardens are harvested of their produce, and the sky’s radiant blue begins to fade. The warmth of summer fades as well, replaced by an aching chilliness. The colors change to realistic hues of browns and greens and maroons. Longing lingers in the atmosphere, begging for mystery, but demanding that you keep to the rules. School begins, with all its tedious schedules and rigid unyielding demands. People bustle about, frantic to undue the laziness of their guilty summers and pursue fresh visions with renewed enthusiasm. Truth, in all its practical reality, demands that watch your step and watch the road. The voices of a hundred reasons crowd your mind with confusion.
Spring lifts the veil of snow, like a bride’s lacy mantle, revealing the shining glory of brand new splendor. Death has been nurturing a seed; hiding its growth until the proper time. Once revealed, the beauty is three times more than what could have been imagined. Young love is discovered. The soft kiss of wonder touches the earth with its unending discovery. Autumn gently buries its beloved. It scatters the petals of its wilting blossoms; yielding its fruits, so that others may live. Life peels back its outer shell, revealing its heart, even as the leaves fade to dust, and are carried away by the cool winds of the north. Gratefulness is shown, in the touch of a hand, the kind tone of a word; the quiet tears of an aging saint.
Spring, even in its all its majesty, knows that autumn will eventually come around. It always does. Spring embraces its youthful exuberance, but willingly lets go into the wise arms of the coming seasons. Autumn, in all its melancholy sorrow, clings to
the hope of spring’s new beginnings, even as it painfully surrenders to the hard coldness of winter’s ultimate death. The promise has never failed, nor will it ever. Spring will always take you there and back again....and autumn will too.
