While the crisp winter air still hangs atop the bare mountain peaks to the west, I always take a moment to embrace the change of seasons. Summer is now long gone and judging by the influx of candy in my house yesterday; October just came to an end. It most certainly is still fall, but I can’t help but question if the transitional seasons, spring and autumn, are really shorter than the blazingly hot summer and bone chilling winter months. They sure feel as if they span less time. At one moment it is warm and sunny, the next we are seeing snow and the rapid shift to wearing cold weather gear. It’s apparent that the extremes have been exaggerated by the changing weather patterns but as far as I can tell it’s mostly just the way it has always been around these parts. If one goes out hiking the trails you will see ancient story unfolding before your eyes. Look up and you will see the fireball oranges and glowing yellows hanging in the deciduous canopy. In many areas the forests cover has begun fading to its much duller earth tones and falling to its new home amongst the soil. The gracefully erratic flocks of migratory birds are becoming less and less frequent. Coats of fur are being exchanged for heavier ones that often more closely match the winter landscape. The frogs have ceased their boastful calls. The small rodents are frantically finding the last additions to their holiday season stash. The floating logs recently stacked full of basking turtles are now vacant. The wild creatures find refuge underground, in hollow trees, beneath deep mud, and for those who can conquer gravity, to a vacation home somewhere slightly more pleasant than here. I rarely judge winter by a calendar these days, just walk outside and nature will tell you, you just have to look around.
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