Transitions

It is a season of transition.

Perhaps second only to spring, when dirty snow and ice accumulated during a long, gray winter give way to new blades of green grass and budding trees, the transition from summer to fall approaches with magical, yet sometimes agonizing, anticipation.

Besides the fact that I can no longer exclaim, “ball game tonight!” as I arrive home from work, the beauty and warmth of our Midwestern summer begins to wane. But then, it’s difficult to complain about losing summer’s beauty when it is replaced by autumn’s parade of red, yellow and gold; the smell of crisp, October air; the crunch of frosty grass underfoot; and the amazing sculptures of willows and oaks as they undress to expose their limbs against the cool, gray sky.

Kids are back in school, and I can’t help but notice (and appreciate) the transition to older crews working at McDonalds and elsewhere. A shift in my morning drive time is calculated to avoid following the school bus and its many pick-up stops. It’s now a little darker in the morning, and in the evening, and soon the only daylight hours will be while I am sitting in my windowless office. (Of course, these days I am just glad to have an office in which to sit!)

Outdoor projects are transitioning to indoor projects. The travel trailer has been stored for the winter, the pool will soon be covered, and the mower deck will need to be replaced with the snow blower. I will rake the fallen leaves, and they will make good winter cover for the perennial flowers. One final garage cleaning will enable us to park indoors again.

Transitions. Our lives are full of them. Some are nearly the same every year, while others sneak up on us while we are busy with our lives.

But now, with fewer projects on my list, I begin a refreshed season of painting and drawing. The outdoors is no longer competing for my time, and I look forward to a prolific six months.

I love transition.