Cycle of the seasons
As I was walking this morning through Montpelier, back from the service station that will change out my summer tires to the winter variety, my sweatshirt was un-hooded and unzipped to let in the crisp “football weather.”
I noticed what’s left of a brilliant month-long show of nature. There is a golden glow all about me. A bit of green holds on in the undergrowth and the grass. There is the occasional bright garnet red of the burning bush.
The annuals and many trees have given up the fight, but the sugar maple holds on and radiates its lovely golden glow. It’s a rich gold, as I suppose gold is supposed to be — rich. It’s a warm gold. I suppose it’s trying to give us one last hope that there is some warmth left before our hills turn to gray and then fade to white.
So I take note of the last vestiges of the growing season that is ready to take a rest, knowing that it will once again regroup and start up again as it’s supposed to. I know that there will be snowdrops making their way up through the frozen dirt in early April.
I’ll be returning to the service station to take off my winter tires and put back on the summer ones. This cycle’s been a good run and, like my tires, will roll on seamlessly into the next one.
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