Tonight is one of those rare quiet nights. It’s early yet and my son is off to bed, another rare thing. I’ve been sitting here trying to write about my kitchen as I have been tagged to do so. I promise it is forthcoming. Tonight however, I look out over the trees, now silhouettes in the night sky, the leaves of autumn fallen and the first snow of winter sparkling on the ground. There are lights from some of the homes shining through our little woods, things we cannot see in the summer when the leaves are thick and green.
As I gaze out over the beauty of this night, I find myself filled with longing for summer. I can’t explain this longing as summer, while I enjoy it, has never been my favorite season. Autumn with it’s bright burst of color, cool nights and lovely days, has always been my time. So where does this come from, this need for the warm days and nights, the days filled with plants and flowers, the nights with the sounds of summer. Perhaps it is the passing of time reflected in the seasons that makes me want to dig in my heels and slow things down.
Time is like the face of an old clock with pictures reflecting the days of my life gone by, the beat of the minutes pushing me forward to do those things that call to me, to embrace those things I have found. Winter is here again, with it’s cold shimmering nights. While I walk through the days and nights of winter with the warm fires, lights and whispering snow, I will sleep bundled under my covers, the soft fragrance of summer days gone by drifting into my dreams.