Seasons

My dad commented today that it feels like fall is on it's way. I've been thinking that for a week now, but was hesitant to say anything for fear of another two months of burning misery. I adore the change in the seasons. I think the thing I like most is the promise of new and yet, old things to come. I like the ebb and flow. The routine. I am beginning to think that I am pretty resistant to change.

When it's summer into fall, there is all of that ... coolness to look forward to and really, I'm a sweater type of person. I like thick, comfy sweatshirts and open windows at night, carrying a hint of woodsmoke from town. The wind blows a bunch. It doesn't STOP blowing. You are constantly rubbing dust from allergic eyes and choking while trying to talk. Don't even bother with the Pledge until the first good rain comes through.

From fall to winter is the excitement of the season approaching and the first snow. The mornings that you get up and stand at the window, watching the sun come up. When the first rays touch the frost, it turns the world into a tinfoil likeness of it's former self and I am always amazed at the silvery points of light. But... the wind, only now, it's colder.

Then from winter to spring. Ahhh, relief from the chill. While I am wallowing around in big, bulky sweaters, I am still anxious for the first day when I can feel the sun on my arms and watch the calves run on shaky legs. I love to see all the babies of spring. And the wind? It blows, with the promises of spring snow and chilly rain.

And then summer. The promise of dusty days and tanned skin. Long days, late nights and loud laughter. Camping, bundling up against the chill of the morning mountain air. Campfires and mosquitoes. Rodeos. Driving in my truck down dusty roads, listening to the radio and Ty counting rabbits. And the wind? It blows.