When spring migration kicks off in April, I get so excited. After months of cold temperatures and gray skies, the sweet singing of the arriving migrants begins. These avian friends, who finally see fit to leave their warm wintering grounds to grace our still chilled woods, put pep in my step for weeks on end with their melodies. It's easy to get excited about spring for lots of reasons. Longer days, shorter nights, warmer temperatures, blooming flowers and trees, brightly colored birds... everything is waking up after months of dormancy.Getting excited about fall, however, takes a little more effort. I'm reluctant to part with summer and its long-lingering daylight (true, parting is such sweet sorrow). The heat and humidity I have no problem bidding farewell, but the shortening days just break my heart. And so I have to look to other aspects of the changing season to find its true worth.
For example...I love the fog that settles in the valleys overnight, and the way it diffuses the day's first light and illuminates every cobweb.
I love the unmistakable smell in the air - a combination of newly fallen leaves and the intensified perfume of damp earth.
I love the changing landscape as the trees melt into their finest colors before disrobing for their long winter's nap.
And I love the smell of smoke as the human inhabitants of these hills put their first logs on the fire to ward off the cool northwest winds.
While spring is a time of newness and excitement, with bright life around every corner, the waning days of autumn bring a sense of slowing down, of contemplation. There is a renewed sense of appreciation for the cycle of life as plants go dormant and animals hibernate, and a sense of peace unknown during other seasons. The rustle of walking through crisp leaves will eventually give way to quiet padding over snow-covered ground. Quiet. Stillness. In the air, and in my mind.
After such consideration, I am ready for fall.
