Seasonal Effective Order.

In my truest heart I have always been a summer girl.  It has forever been the default as my favorite season; I've bemoaned the arrival of autumn - and it's harsh follower, winter - many a time.

Except this year. This year I decided to try something different.  Fall, Winter - particularly in New England - are clearly inevitable.  Days get shorter, colder.  We put away our tank tops and sandals and pull out the tights, the boots, the parkas.  It happens this way every single year and despite knowing that, every single year I feel my internal seasonal clock raging in disappointment and frustration, already nostalgic for sweet summer nights before they're even completely gone.

This year though, instead of lamenting the change, I decided to be fully present with the weather, with what each season gave me.  I would make a conscious effort to notice the details that created every seasonal change.  With the fall closet flip done, the tights pulled out, and my heat switched on, I became determined to notice the joy and beauty each season gifted me. I wanted to appreciate them for exactly the season they were; I was determined not to force them to be anything they were not. (Read: Summer.)

It began almost as a game.  Instead of walking to work focused on the tasks ahead of me and the meetings that awaited, I began to play the where was I right. this. moment. adventure.

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The fall  - crunching leaves underfoot, squawking geese flying overheard, carved pumpkins on the doorsteps of brownstones, the smell of baking apple pie and warm stews simmering on the stove.  Gold and red leaves in my line of sight, bundling up in a beloved scarf and digging out a forgotten cozy sweater.  Farmers markets shifting from selling tomatoes to apples, from sunflowers to mums and pumpkins.  Turning to books that I deemed "fall reads," heavier than light beach reads.  Stranger Things and The Crown, settling in under a blanket at night, leaving my windows cracked the tiniest amount to let the crisp air blow in.

Then, winter.  Slow to unfurl, then unleashing with a vengeance.  The trees suddenly bare, the evenings pitch black before five o'clock.  Cotton light-weight sheets exchanged for flannel, down comforters unfolded and smoothed across my bed.  Fall wool coats turned instead to heavy puffy jackets, my favorite hand-knit cap pulled out from the drawer where I'd tucked it last year. Scented candles, nightly. Warm baths when the chill in my bones refused to subside.  The crunch of snow underfoot.  The humor of trying to climb over snow piled on sidewalks as a grown adult.  My hands curled around a cup of hot tea before bed time.  Walking gingerly over black ice.  Wool socks pulled on Saturday mornings before walking to yoga class. A glass of red wine and the tiniest piece of bitter dark chocolate while I perused my bookshelves, deciding which book I'd read next.  Bare feet against a cold hardwood floor while scurrying to the bathroom, the comfort of slipping them into sherling-lined Bean slippers a minute later.    

******

It is snowing as I type this.  Yesterday everywhere I turned, as new stories about the impending snow unfolded, I heard friends and co-workers bemoaning another storm - in mid-March at that.  Truthfully, I couldn't wait for the chance to watch the snow fall silently from my bedroom windows, tucked up in my little tree-house.  To my dismay this storm won't accumulate to much.  Winter is on his way out, leaving us for another year.

Tuesday, the calendar officially moved us into spring.  And while I never thought I'd say I'm not quite ready for Old Man Winter to move on, I have already made a promise to myself to not lament the end of our winter season for too long.  For with spring comes a whole new world of beauty found in ordinary moments.

And we all know what season follows spring...