Here I live. In the Midwest. Specifically Ohio. I feel we are fortunate in this part of the country because we have the changing of the seasons. This is the time of year when it turns colder.
The winds get gusty with the edge of a frigid chill here in these months. We remember a far-off spring that can bring about an almost lusty vibrance in the air. A prospect of new things to come.
Yet. December calls. Some mornings, it looks misty and gray. Mostly, it turns gray once Old Man Winter hits. There is nothing hasty about winter. It is slow and laborious. It creeps along with its dark evenings and dim mornings.
But winter is beautiful, and all that extra darkness shifts our focus to things that are unknown. The mystery in the story that may be unfolding outside our windows. The things we can’t see and will never know.
Yes. I am thankful for the changing of the seasons. Each holds its very own magic.
For the record. Here are the seasons ranked by popularity. Here in Ohio.
Summer.
Fall.
Spring.
Winter.
Changes.
To each his own.
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“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!'” — Robin Williams
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“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” — Albert Camus
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“The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other.” — Arthur Rubenstein
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Winter calls. The seasons change.
