The Season of Now

jen

Winter. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Seasons that dictate everything from what we do with our day to how we feel to what we feed ourselves, and for different reasons, I love them all. Have you ever noticed that just when you begin to tire of the current season, the next one is waiting in the wings to enter stage left? Weary of trimming, weeding and maintaining our humble landscape towards the end of August, come March I cannot wait to dig my fingers in the dirt but must wait until the rain lets up and the winds die down. Or when I struggle to yet again reinvent another soup for dinner, it’s time to plant spring lettuce and get ready for grilling. And so nature imitates life, and vise versa.

Although the wind is howling outside my window as I write, the rain is coming down in sheets, and the last of the few yellow leaves are clinging desperately to their part-time residence on the maple trees out front, I’m in the springtime of my life. Constantly discovering who I am, I catch occasional glimpses of someone who’s doing it right, whatever “right” means.

Someone once told me, “The way you feel about yourself can change dramatically when you understand who you are and who you can be.” I have an urgent desire to create…create a comfortable home where my young family can flourish and grow, create memories and traditions that we’ll fondly recall and one day find ourselves saying “remember when…”, and create beauty in any form.

I sew, I cook, I quilt, I craft, I write, I garden, I read. I also fret, joke, cry, sing, organize, laugh (although regretfully not enough at myself), wonder, obsess, and daydream. I’m happy, tired and vibrant in my quest for inspiration. Stretched physically and emotionally, at the same time I am fiercely protective of my family, much akin to a mother robin standing guard over her young and proudly standing beside her mate. I’m where I’m supposed to be, the season of now.