Seasons of Life
As spring turns to summer, it's an exciting time to be alive.
May/June 2009
Oscar H. Will III
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Editor Hank Will and one of his mulefoot pigs, Daffodil, catching some rays of sunlight.
Kate Will
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I was born in North Dakota, where winter is long and cold. We knew how to have fun in that dark season ... we spent half an hour bundling up to brave the subzero temperatures and double-digit wind speeds. Skating, sledding and fort building were all on our wintertime agenda. More often than not, in spite of our physical exertion, we turned to little blocks of ice within 15 minutes of exposure. We were warm by the time the un-bundling was completed ... and more often than not, started the process all over again. As much fun as wintertime brought, I looked forward to longer days.
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As a child, I didn't understand the cause of seasonal day length differences, but I was well aware of the expanded light period in summer. I was also aware of where I saw the sun peek over the horizon, although it wasn't until fourth-grade science class that a very patient teacher helped put it all together. Ever since that revelation, no matter where we lived, I found myself a sacred place in the landscape where I could hide out, reflect on nature and mark the sun's progress from south to north and back south again. My “sighting stone” was often a grain bin or silo; trees also came in handy. When I went to college in Chicago, I found water towers atop buildings to help. Here in Kansas, our pine grove makes a pretty nice solar tracking device.
The vernal equinox is now just a few days away. I can’t help but feel vital because the season of life is poised to spring from the earth in an encore performance that’s been ongoing for millennia. We’ve had some hints that the season of life is really coming in Kansas; the lilacs broke bud last weekend, and the silver maples are in bloom. Our garlic is growing in the garden, and greens are sprouting in the cold frame. Geese are flying, ponds are filling and frogs are singing. The seasonal joys are overwhelming.