The seasons of the year.

The seasons of our lives.

Spring. Springtime. The beginning. New life. The earth awakens, bringing with it often indescribable beauty. It is a time of possibilities, renewed hopes. A forward-looking time. Optimism.

Summer. Summertime. If this season is for anyone, it’s for the children and for those of all the growing up years. A time when lazy, seemingly endless days are the stuff of which is so sweetly remembered, when we reach our looking back years.

Autumn. Maturity is upon the land. Upon us. The fall colors, the crispness in the air, and the hint of the change to come, in our climate, and in our advancing years, the awareness of which inexorably begins to steal into the land, into our consciousness. A winding down, a falling away.

Then comes winter. Wintertime. The earth enters into its annual respite from growth. It rests, but brings with it beauty as well. Snow. Cold starry nights. Hoary “icing” on the ground. A time of reflection, of summing up.

Yes, the winter of our lives. And “with age, the scope of possibilities diminishes.” It’s the natural order of things.

It would seem, kind reader, that the farther we travel along on our pilgrimage, the more aware we become how quickly the seasons do change.

If there is any lesson to be learned from this journey, it’s that each day is special. Would that we might impart this “knowing” to those younger than we.

But you and I, friends, understand it, don’t we? For this understanding let us be grateful.

The seasons of the year.

The seasons of our lives.

APROPOS — “Our lives are but a little while, / so let them run as sweetly as you can …”

Euripides (c. 422 B.C.)