The Both/And of Seasons

Here and Now In The Beautiful But Not Yet

-For Carrie’s Narration Click Below Subscriber Line.

Thursday is March 21, the Vernal Equinox, which is the first official day of spring. In the Northern Hemisphere we are now experiencing nearly equal hours of daylight and dark. The world is waking up, rolling its shoulders, cracking its stiff neck and taking its first sure steps into the next growing season. You can now look toward the eastern horizon and look for an asterism, a cluster of bright yellow stars Arcturus, Spica and Regulus—The Spring Triangle. This week I climbed up on a step ladder and trimmed an enourmous pussywillow bush, that I planted many years ago as a single twig. Pussywillow flowers, which are called “catkins” are silver gray and as soft as a kitten’s fur, and only appear on new canes. It is recommended to trim a pussywillow bush each year in early spring which I do, keeping the plant healthy and strong, and allowing me to gather and give away many bouquets of flexible wands covered with catkins that are sure-to-make-you smile-and-say-awww-they’re-so-soft. Yes, I am always elated with the coming of spring and the rituals of trimming and preparing the garden, and yet I also find myself feeling bittersweet at each season’s transition.

Perhaps that both/and feeling of elation/bittersweetness grows out how much I love what is beautiful and unique to each arriving and passing section of the year. I love the pared-down sagelike quietness of the winter woods. I love how spring steps lightly from the melt and mud, all covered in green veils and carrying baskets of trillium, trout lilies and mayapples. I love the way summer swaggers onto the scene, all confidence and overblown abundance. And I love how autumn throws out its golden arms and sings of long last looks and gratitude. Maybe that feeling of both/and is also connected to being of an age when there are more cycles of seasons behind me than there will be ahead, and so each one feels like something to savor, to delight in and experience like a single perfect snowflake caught on my tongue. Maybe it is that feeling of both/and that makes me want to pay more attention to transitions, to love each season for what it is, but to also love what is happening when the seasons overlap, right here and right now (which is always and ever where I actually live).