There is an inexplicable link between the deep soul of my person and the seasons. Specifically and especially Autumn and Winter. When the sky turns a multitude of steel blues and the trees show their earthy red dress clothes in preparation for a long sleep, something lights up in me. Something deep and primal.
In the places I’ve spent most of my Autumns the wind moves differently and the temperature changes in a dynamic way that cools my nervous system and wakes up my spirit. I feel alive. I feel vibrant. I feel the wheel turning again. Many Autumns have been very close to nature and my own experience is reflected in the wild animals as well.
The ducks are on the move, the elk are shuffling about, and the deer get a friskiness in their step. As winter comes, the wild world wakes up and goes about the the task of preparing. In my experiences, Autumn and Winter are more alive than the others, but in a particular way.
When Winter comes I feel my skin come alive. The systems of my body activate in ways that only cold can motivate. My mind becomes sharper and my senses more acute. Maybe this is the wilderness inside of me joining its brothers and sisters in the dance of Autumn.
There is something inside of me that feels real when I wake up in a cozy bed and the air is cool; the house chilled and quiet with snow packed on the roof and ground outside. Stoking a fire to warm the place. Peaking outside for firewood. My breath moves like a lazy mist from my nose and mouth. The skin on my face tightens. In these moments I feel like a god.
I wonder what it is that ties me so strongly to Winter. I’ve spent time in nearly every climate on this planet. Spent entire years moving away from Winter, just to see if this thing I feel is real, only to find a sort of insanity creep into the corners of my mind when the snow doesn’t come and the sun beats down day after day.
Even stranger still is finding myself in this place of mostly sunny, most days, where the seasons are tracked by the calendar and not the weather. It must be spring, it’s April, after-all. Oh look, October. Autumn time. What an odd notion to my sense of the world. Seasons are, to me, felt viscerally and bodily. Yet here I am in the temperate belt of the world.
There are things that draw me close and keep me here. I don’t regret settling into this place, with people I like, challenges worth conquering, and a loving partner that makes me feel, regardless of where we go, that I am home. And still, in my deep soul there is a snow-bound mountain man patiently waiting and pondering.