A Different Sort Of Year
This has been a unique year for me. My husband and I have spent more time in the mountains of North Carolina than any other year, about thirteen weeks so far, and a couple more to go. We have spent enough time here to witness the change of seasons. That is something this Florida girl has not seen too often.
We arrived in the mountains at the end of May. The weather was cold and rainy, and the trees barely had the pale green color of early spring. As we got into June and July, every tree was full of green leaves. Flowers were flourishing in the summer mountain climate. The blackberries were just ripening when we left to go back to Florida for a few weeks. When we returned in the middle of September, after our family trip to Scotland, the signs of fall were clear. In the two weeks we’ve been back, we have seen the leaves deepen into shades of yellow, orange, and red before they release themselves and fall to the ground.
Spring, Summer, Fall
It is so different from Florida. In Florida, we have brown and not as hot, followed by green and hot. In between, a few weeks of glorious weather, baby green leaves, and a kaleidoscope of colorful spring flowers.
Autumn In The Mountains
I love autumn in the mountains, but it also makes me a little wistful, especially as more and more leaves fall. It feels like the end of something. Another year is coming to a close. The hope of spring, the carefree days of summer, and the jewel tones of autumn are giving way to the cold and quiet season of winter. Change is coming, and the sensation is palpable.
It reflects life. The spring of youth, the active age of summer, and the slower pace of autumn, the golden years. As I watch the colors deepen, I know the last leaf struggling valiantly to hold on to its branch will let go, and it will be winter. Change.
This will be a season of change for me and my husband. Soon, we will leave Florida with its blurry seasonal lines and only a handful of true winter days and head to a place where each season is clear. It’s going to be so different — a big change. But it will simply be another season.
Definition: Wistful—pensive, especially in a melancholy way
How about you? Do you live where the changes in seasons are clear? Does the year’s end and autumn make you wistful? Do you feel the change of seasons in your life? I’d love to hear.
Kim Wilbanks 