Grit Blogs > Where the Dirt Road Leads

Season unto Season

Laura LoweTomatoes are easy to grow and hot summers are perfect for growing.

Southern summers leave us breathless – seductively luring us into dark green lushness on the wings of bees and birds. Each day the fertile paradise of the garden brings forth an abundance of exquisite offerings so prolific that surely a magic genie has been at work overnight. Crepe myrtle trees offer their abundant flower clusters to teeming bee populations. White crepe myrtle flowers carpet lawns with snowy flower flakes. Summer sunshine is intoxicating and yet soothing in a warmth no other intoxicant can offer. And the colors – brilliant, resplendent, searing, titillating, hot to the touch – are perhaps the defining stamps of summer, whether worn by nature or nature worshipers.

Meat offerings are immolated on man-made charcoal altars, the scent wafts heavenward.  At dusk pyrotechnics dazzle the people gathered round – waiting for the awesome spectacle. Summer ripens into maturity.

Season leads unto season …

The woods are on

Autumn – full-bodied, mature, dressed in rust, gold, yellow, red, orange – presents her time of harvest and in gathering. Elevated to religious significance, thanksgiving is offered in various religious festivals. A pilgrimage to the mountains is in order to appreciate the leafy splendor igniting the hillsides with nature’s brush and palette. Moderating temperatures invigorate, dispelling summer’s languor.

Adults put away childish things. Citadels of learning beckon and chide the frolickers to repent, to atone for the pleasures of a season. The people bow and offer thanks for the land and what it has brought forth. It is such a good land that flows with milk and honey.

Season leads unto season …

 The naked trees show winter's bleakness.

Winter creaks and groans onto the landscape, ferried on bitter winds and frigid temperatures. Some of our friends abandon us. Sorely missed is their cheerful chirping and winged ballet flights. Nature reveals secrets we have missed before. Is the texture of tree bark noticeable at any other time? Winter offers a brown field to gaze upon without distractions of other times. Bare tree branches touch each other in a bony embrace, and the sound is vaguely disturbing. Disturbing and resignedly peaceful, is a melancholy sound that echoes across barren fields from tall pines at their edge. The lone crow calls out, but no one answers.

People light fires on stone hearths. Redolent smells of roasting meat and fowl mingle with evergreen boughs, cloves, scented candles, permeating cloistered domains. The celebrations bring light and joy to a dark world.

Season leads unto season …

Wisteria is such a pretty enchantress.

Now the wee ones are back, awakening us with joyous serenades. Spring is a pretty miss adorned in frothy pinks, greens, and yellows. Her beauty is astonishing. Monster bumblebees invade azalea blossoms, forsythia becomes a burning bush. Wisteria blossoms drape over fences, climb trees, and cling to wrought iron balconies, such a charming enchantress.

How does the garden grow? Daffodils, irises, roses, tulips, snapdragons, all an amazing show in the garden. Inside an encore performance arranged in cut glass vases and wicker baskets – mute sentinels to softly scented evening breezes, gently stirring delicate lace curtains at open windows. The mood of the moment is fleeting, yet tinged with profound nostalgia.

We celebrate the triumph of life over death and a liberation of slaves in an ancient land. Spirits, weary of winter’s introspection, begin to soar. The people are uplifted, renewed, reborn.

Season leads unto season …