Winter returns with her beautiful grace. It’s the interim between her and spring. The birds begin to sing the morning rise again and the geese have already returned. I like to watch the season roll in and out, particularly when they entwine like a lover in the nook of the arm. Winter is still as cold as ever, but hints of spring bring promises that soon winter will relinquish her breath for that warm exhaling relief of spring. And spring knows she needs winter to do her job. She doesn’t demand to be seen as better or prettier, she simply participates in this pearled string that Mother Nature has given us. Without winter, spring cannot bloom; without spring summer cannot grow; without summer autumn cannot compost the nutrients for winter to blanket with crystalline water for Spring to feed the seeds all over again.
I mark the seasons like my grandmother did or at least, what I remember of her. How powerful was her grace that though I lost my grandmother at 6years old, I still try and bring a part of her into my understanding. I mark the seasons and learn from them for my grandmother.