Woke up this morning to a winter wonderland. Yes, it’s April 4.
I couldn’t help myself - I threw open the curtains and stood rapt by the sheer beauty of it. I just love how we humans think we have it all under control when Mother Nature has other ideas. I find that comforting. The Grande Dame has one priority and that is to caretake the wellbeing of all living things. She’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen regardless of whether or not we say it’s Spring.
I’ve just finished reading Charlotte Gray’s biography of emigrant sisters Susannah Moodie and Catharine Parr Traill. Catharine, in particular, developed a passionate affinity with the natural environment of her adopted homeland. Even in the 1830’s, she lamented the wholesale destruction of the forests and wetlands, as well as the numerous medicinal and culinary plants so integral to the Indigenous peoples (yes, I am aware of the irony but revisionist history is for another time).
An American contemporary of Catharine, Walt Whitman, wrote,
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Amen to that.
As the seasons go by, I find myself more and more attuning to the natural world. Melding, it feels like some days. I am as it is. The only difference between me and most of nature’s expression is the pace of my growth. I don’t have millenia to form as the mountains do nor the short season of life as the flowers do. Which is as it should be - we all have our unique place.
Including these goofballs: