Each season embodies a character and the natural world plays its dramaturgically complex part perfectly. Nature even involves us intimately to partake in this performance and we follow its lead more closely than we think.
I will admit my love for seasons comes after a recent change of heart. Seasons can feel like a nuisance – it juts us out of balance. But I have come to love the intensity that each season brings. After all, changing seasons is one of the very few things that brings the community we live in – people, plants, rocks – around us together and directs us to live in the present.
I often think of my favorite time of the day that captures the essence of the season and its intensity perfectly. And, visually for me, no one captures this essence and beauty as well as the Impressionists do. Inspired by one of my favorite writers Sho Shonagon and her tales of nature around her while at the Haiyan court, here is my attempt at describing the essence of this beautiful process of change. I hope as you read through the piece you will also think through the question – What is your favorite time of the day for each season and why?
Spring afternoons: The season for attention to detail. You notice the bud, the blooming flowers, the lingering black cloud ready to pour any second. Attention to detail is a must. Sun has finally triumphed over the crushing wind. Spring afternoon sun finally permeates to give you the much-craved hug. With every bud you see growing and the promise for rebirth you see fulfilled, you become more excited to take on the future.
Summer nights: Summer nights when the fire crackles, insects talk, leaves on the breezy trees hum and the stars despite being a million miles away feel like are singing – just for you. Nature puts on its best show, and you are ready to grow outwardly as well.
Fall mornings: Crisp, salty, undulating – even the air is complex. Fall morning’s glory is at full display when the sun hits the fiery trees and fallen leaves that carpet the earth crackle upon stepping. The inevitability of the upcoming austerity makes us appreciate things around us. Conveniently, many of the holidays and festivals collude to spark the feeling of gratitude.
Winter evenings: Snow blankets the earth. Wool blankets our arms. Trees resemble bare skeletons, at the frontline of the cold. The cold has settled through the bones by the time evening rolls in. I love winter for its austerity, the way it thrusts introspection and inevitable renewal onto us.
