Seasons

As I type this post, the snow falls in millions of tiny flakes outside. It’s the second snow this week. How much do we have? I’m not a good judge of that. Certainly, over a foot between the two snows now. The fire is going, and my tea is steaming as I think about seasons. I certainly don’t want to go anywhere when it snows. I want to stay home, make some candles, bake, and read or write. And the animals seem to enjoy the same idea. Sometimes, the squirrels get excited about the snow and start scurrying along; but today it’s far too cold and far too heavy a snow fall for any scurrying about. The animals are silent, and all but the most adventurous cat is burrowed down in their nests or holes.

Not so in spring. Soon, the birds will be hustling through the air and barely stopping for breath. Soon, the squirrels will be quarreling and the bunnies multiplying.

Then summer will come, a season of even more activity. Perhaps an afternoon nap during the hottest part of the day or a swim down the river for some enthusiastic otter. Then morning and evening bring an assembly of creatures in field and wood.

Fall brings with it preparation for rest. One last hustle before a long snooze. Shorter days bring with them heavy eye lids, savory treats and savoring moments until at last the return to deep rest.

What if we as humans do the same? What if we go to bed with the sun and wake with it’s dawning? What if we hustle when the days grow longer and the plants sprout? What if we work in the cool mornings of summer and the late nights by firefly light? What if we savor and prepare for a harsh winter? God brings us seasons for many reasons. Perhaps sometimes it’s the simple beauty of it all. Perhaps sometimes its for the drama that we can observe in creation. And perhaps it is also a reminder to us that our level of productivity doesn’t have to always look the same. Perhaps you’re in a slow season now, but you know a busy season is around the corner. Perhaps you need to say no to some things and actually use these short days and cold nights to stay home and enjoy a simpler pace.

Perhaps this idea of a season of rest will give you encouragement today to remember that you don’t always have to be busy, and sometimes you can wait to do the work later. And as the fire dies and the lights grow dim, you ponder and savor, the moon glistening bright over a slumbering white world. And you sign and close your eyes in its milky gleam.