Puddles grow by the hour and rivers swell close to capacity. LED headlights penetrate my windshield, streaking the rain into mini-star bursts and I wonder if I have reached that age where driving at night will soon be out of reach. Perhaps it is the sign I need as Winter veils us in a wet cloak to draw the blinds and stay in these long, dark evenings.
Autumn Newsletter: Harvesting Rest
In recent years, my local climate has not followed the usual patterns of weaving cool weather into night, to leaves surrendering their green into startling reds and yellows, and flowers dropping to mulch into soil as autumn approaches. Oh, it arrives in some form, but a bit chagrined and with a folder full of explanations. So I was happy, yes happy, to don my rain gear as the calendar officially announced the equinox in my beloved Pacific NW and the Nature that surrounds me magically turned on cue. As one who has lived all but the first four years of her life in this region of the world, the shift in seasons is one way I navigate the spiral of my being. The harvest of rest this season offers, with its lengthening nights and bundling of my body for warmth, reminds me of all the moments I’ve forgotten in the chaos of summer about SLOW TIME. Slow time, something I lean into with more grace as I age. Stepping away from the demands of external clocks (though they still seems to dictate more of my life than I desire.)
Winter Newsletter: Footfalls On The Journey—Shifting Landscapes Shift Perspectives
Ah February in the Pacific NW. Our mild winter faked us out with a few warm spring-like days earlier in the month. This is typical. A few bulbs poke up. Trees start budding and a few have even bloomed some years, though at least this year the cherries didn’t. Wise those cherries. We are giddy with visions of lighter jackets and warmer days.
Then cold swept in with an unexpectedly large gathering of snow in the lowlands. Caught the weather-folk by surprise as well as the evening commuters on a recent Wednesday. Portland recorded 10-12” in some neighborhoods. My higher elevation abode had about 10”. It turned into an icy mess once the snow thawed a bit and refroze. All the headlines read “snowapocalypse”and folks in the midwest rolled their eyes I’m sure. Now this is typical…a “false” spring followed by more “wintery mixes,” but we are a hopeful bunch in the Pacific NW (or forgetful) and think each year will be different.
Coastal Language of Ambiguous Loss & Disenfranchised Grief
I can sense the relief in my interactions with others these days. It is FINALLY light after 5:30pm! Yes! Folks are smiling again. Hope in the form of longer days in the Northern Hemisphere has arrived. We passed the midpoint of winter February 1st and “suddenly” first light crests the horizon well before 7am and daylight lingers longer. Last Tuesday at 6pm when I set out on my Mazama Street Ramble, there was still a vague hint of light in the west as stars started to bud. A clear night blossoming after a day of steady rain.
Nature takes the seasonal shifts in stride. If I look back through my camera roll, there are photos of daffodil tips poking through the soil in February from years past. Already the hellebore are blooming and if I draw a dogwood twig close to my eyes I can see the beginnings of budding. From a distance the deciduous trees appear to still be slumbering, but beneath their exterior they are awakening. It all feels predictable…or at least variations on a theme. And humans, for the most part, we like predictable.
