Hmmm, how profound that the seasons of the year mirror the seasons of our lives.
Up here in Canada we experience the full progression of the seasons: vibrant spring, extravagant summer, autumn’s colour cavalcade and the lockdown of winter. We are currently in the depths of winter which is my least favourite time of the year. But each of the seasons has its character and mirrors a period of time in our life.
I think of spring as the season of prelude. The earth awakens from its winter slumber. The temperature trends upward and colour gradually returns to the landscape. Spring flowers adorn the woodland glades as shown in the photograph above. We began to spread our wings and prepare ourselves for the promise of summer that lies ahead.
I think of summer as the season of magnitude. Everything feels larger and more emphatic. Nature bursts forth in vibrant growth and colour as the marsh photograph above reflects. All of Mother Nature’s creatures mate and bear their offspring. There is a feeling of abundance and unlimited potential. We open ourselves to the fullness of nature and bask in its glory.
I think of fall as the season of interlude. The leaves turn from verdant green to pastel red and gold, then to muted yellow and brown. Shadows lengthen and the days shorten as captured in the forest scene above. We put on our fall jackets, exult in the cavalcade of colours and begin, albeit reluctantly, to prepare ourselves for the coming of winter.
I think of winter as the season of solitude. We hunker down, pull in our wings and spend more time in quiet and solitary contemplation. But solitude is not nothingness. It is a necessary discipline it itself. The Ring-billed Gull in the photograph above, perched resolutely on a rock at the lake’s edge, symbolizes this time of year when we turn inward and cultivate patience.
The progression of the seasons is the definitive metaphor for life – from childish glee and anticipation, to youthful exuberance and expectation, to middle-age’s slower and more thoughtful pace, to the wisdom and self-reflection of old age.
Prelude, magnitude, interlude and solitude: Each has its gifts and its associated costs. We are all birds in migration, from birth through life to death, grasping the fruits of each season to sustain us and prepare us for the transformations that always and inevitably lie ahead.
~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet
~ Michael Robert Dyet is also the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel (now out of print) which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com .
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Tags: interlude · magnitude · metaphor · Michael Robert Dyet · prelude · seasons · solitudeNo Comments