To Everything There is a Season

 Is it climate change? Or is it aging?

Well I know for sure that climate change is happening because the berries on the trees in my front yard used to turn orange, then red, then fall off the tree in late September. This year I noticed them beginning to turn orange in late July. By early August they were turning red and by mid-August they were falling off the trees. 

My studio window faces southeast. Typically summer sunrises are out of my reach and don’t come about until mid to late September. November and December bring the most brilliant sunrises… I got lucky this morning and caught a pink sunrise – only for a moment. I don’t accredit that to climate change as much as a fluke, but nowadays? Who knows.

I am sensitive to the seasons and grateful that I live in a place where we have seasonal changes. But those seasons are changing. I feel it. The summers are hotter and drier; the winters colder and drier, yet with bursts of surprise blizzards. Fall lately seems to come a bit earlier and sometimes stay a bit longer. Which is fine by me as it is my favorite season. Spring is fleeting and that makes me sad.

 I tend to nest and hibernate when the weather turns cooler – and I relish that. I can’t wait for that. Maybe my Norwegian/Danish genes are why I am so drawn to Hygge. This year – here we are, mid-August and I’m craving Hygge.

 Or is it 70 in the offing?

 I recently read:

“Research has shown that when people get older, they commonly recalibrate their goals. Though they might be doing less, they tend to prioritize what they find meaningful and appreciate. A decline in openness to new experiences could reflect someone relishing their routine rather than seeking new thrills… a decline in extroversion could indicate they are satisfied spending time with people they already love.”

I’ve never claimed to be an extrovert, quite the opposite. But I can relate to that statement. I’m settled. I’m content. I do what brings me joy. I spend time with causes and people (and animals, of course) who bring me joy. And I am oh so grateful to have the gift of time to do all of that.

Climate change and aging. There is some symmetry there.

Life Is Fragile

 Opening one blurry eye to check the time my equally blurry brain began sorting through things I have to do today. First I have to crawl out of this comfortable cocoon and get my diabetic dog out to pee, feed her breakfast and get that 7:15 am shot of insulin in her.

Then I have to feed and medicate the cats and other dog. Then I have to wash a load of pee pads because the aforementioned other dog is incontinent. Then I have to clean the cats’ water fountains and feeders.

 As all of these things fell into categories in my still sleepy head I opened the Facebook app on my phone. And the first post I saw was from a blogger I follow who fosters pregnant cats and nurtures their kittens until Mom and babies are ready for adoption. It is a site full of joy and laughter and cuteness overload.

 But not today.

 Without my glasses I wasn’t quite sure what I was reading but when this came into focus “I’m heartbroken to tell you that in the early morning hours, Natalie passed away… she left behind one tiny, perfect brown tabby boy” – I knew. Thousands of us follow this amazing foster Mama and now thousands of us are grieving. But I promise you none so deeply as she is this morning.

 Life is so fragile…

 So after a few tears I realized – I don’t “have to” take my diabetic dog outside, feed her breakfast and give her that morning insulin jab. I get to.

 I don’t “have to” feed and medicate my other pets. I get to.

 I don’t “have to” wash the pee pads, clean the water fountains and feeders. I get to.

 Each day none of that is guaranteed. One day the diabetic dog will no longer need her insulin. One day there won’t be a clowder of cats to care for. One day the pee pads that I curse every morning won’t be necessary.

 

It sounds so trite, but it is so true. 

This thing we call life? It really is fragile. 

And we really do need to handle it with care.