“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”
I’m not sure if I could live in a temperate climate where it is always the same weather and always nice, summer-like, and sunny. My body, after fifty years, is in such a consistent seasonal rhythm. Like the tides pulled by the moon, my body and mind both go through a seasonal cycle, year in and year out.
Fall is my favorite season. The earthy tones of fall are my favorite colors and capable of taking my breath away (think Cinderella-pumpkin orange with an emerald vine-like green leaf).
Spring is a new beginning, an awakening after the cold and gray of winter. Summer is just pure fun, and all structure and force go literally right out the window.
Summer is a time of complete release.
But it is winter, I think, that moves me forward in my development and my life, because that’s the time I pull inward and become introspective. It’s when I have time to create and dabble. It’s when I cook the best meals. I’m free to read in the daytime and stay inside without feeling forced to get out and play. It’s when I write. It’s when I find how deep my well runs and how strong and secure are my reserves.
Winter gives me what I need to appreciate all other times of the year.