We moved to this land at the end of October when autumn was in her ultimate performance. Colors changed daily as the chlorophyll in leaves decreased and all shades of green gave way so that yellows, oranges, reds, and browns could prevail. Some trees looked like they were on fire, ablaze with the last memories of summer!
In November, leaves started to fall and by the end of December, after an atmospheric river or two, with its accompanying fierce winds, the ground was thick with downed branches and soggy leaves. Then the darkness of winter arrived and with it, rain, snow, and ice. Sometimes soggy, sometimes frozen, the land lay dormant by responding to the differing temperatures.
Weather, especially the type that happens in the middle of a rainforest, can be dramatic. Most anywhere you stand here, it is likely that you are witness to water’s journey to find her path to the swelling, rushing river.
Even though we are new to this place, the cycle is an ancient one. Nature knows her rhythms. And even if this is a false spring, like locals warn, I still can’t believe the shift in energy. The dark thick clouds are nowhere to be found and the Sun appears like a favorite relative–bright and cheerful–bringing out the best in everyone with her warmth. Sun, and all the birds who’ve returned to feed, are announcing the comeback we call Spring.
And here we are on the eve of the vernal equinox with all the promise of more light and a new season of life in the northern hemisphere. Color, foliage, flowers, and fruit are stored in roots and limbs, waiting for their chance to begin again after an über nutritional rest.
I invite you to celebrate this new season with some sort of intentional action. Take a slow walk in a natural space, prepare your garden, start seeds, or stretch out on the Earth to take part in the rejuvenation that this time of year offers us.