Changing Seasons, New Beginnings

I grew up in Greenhills, Ohio, where for 18 years seasons flowed from one to another four times a year. Just a glance out the window, (even if I had been lost in thought or time) would tell me if it was winter, spring, summer or fall.

That’s probably why Japanese Haiku poetry seemed such a comfortably beautiful expression. And why it was my very first art form. (I still love Haiku) As a youngster, I wrote Haiku for every season of the year.

But I was an outdoors girl at heart

In the spring I looked for frog eggs to bring home and hatch on our screened in porch. I don’t remember knowing much about the feeding and care of tadpoles and froglets, but apparently I knew enough to allow them their full growth. I have clear mental pictures of tipping over a jar sideways with dozens of tiny froglets hopping purposefully back towards their native stream.

Summers were filled with collecting daddy long leg spiders in large jars filled with moss and humidity. Their favorite food, I discovered, was liverwurst. This was a snack my father enjoyed between two slices of wonder bread, topped with a slab of Velveeta. But to me liverwurst was food fit only for spiders.

And I loved earthworms so much that I gave them rides in the tiny leather satchel that was fixed right behind my bicycle seat. What was I thinking? I have no idea.

But I was definitely a bug and creepy crawly aficionado.

Autumn was always my favorite season

Autumn in Ohio was glorious, with beech trees turning gold, maples fiery red. The air was crisp and Halloween and my early November birthday loomed expectantly and happily just a short reach away. It was a time to cuddle on the couch with my pet tabby cat or stand over the register that wafted hot air directly from our basement furnace, warming my chilled bones.

And that first winter’s snow…always a delight to romp with my sister and her Dalmatian dog “El Cid.” We’d go on long walks, our local fields and forests transformed by mounds of glistening and silent white drifts.

When I grew up, I traveled a bit till settling in California for nearly 20 years. Much of that time was spent in the south where changing seasons were something one barely noticed. For instance, my son and daughter’s idea of a Christmasy environment was bright sun reflecting on city decorations of bells and wreaths lining a main street.

Snow had little to do with the holiday season for these California kids.

Then we moved to Florida, where I could step outside anytime of the year (even on Christmas day) and get a good sweat going. I used to wish for clouds around the holiday season, just to give a mild hint of coolness.

We survived in Florida mostly “season-less” for 18 years. But the love of changing seasons had never left my bones, and long about 2015 we started planning our escape to New Mexico.

No, this is not a desert environment, as some people have been mislead to believe. True, it is dry. But it’s not the Sahara. It’s not even southern Arizona. It has true, honest to goodness seasons. And each season comes with (delightfully to this old animal lover) a host of differing birds, mammal and insect species. Yes, even in the winter we find interesting prints in the snow and mud.

I am finally in my element

I survived almost 40 years of “seasonal deprivation.” Although most of the flora on our own property is evergreen (pinon, pine and juniper) just a short hop down the mountain will have me, in short order, rejoicing in the glory of bright yellow cottonwood trees, punctuated by the occasional blood red maple.

Where do you live, and how does the flora and fauna change with your local seasons? I would love to hear from your neck of the woods!

Your Animal Loving Artist,

Merry