Growing up, fall was my favorite season. The vivid colors of the New England mountains and valleys were incomparable and touched my soul in a way that words can’t fathom. Since moving to the flatlands of Pennsylvania, my feelings towards the seasons have taken a shift. Fall comes like a thief in the night and brings cool temperatures and crunchy leaves for just a few weeks. Often, Indian summer will give way to frigid days full of ice and snow, robbing us of favorite fall rituals.
The days that I have grown attached to in my adult life are spring. They sneak in quietly and bring with them a gradual change- which is exactly the kind of movement I need. While I love new “things”- shoes, throw pillows, coconut milk in my coffee- life changes tend to rattle psyche. I need time to take in information, process it and formulate a plan of action. That’s how I stay centered. That’s how I feel a small sense of control. It’s also why spring has become so important to me. The shift is gradual because it takes time for things to grow. Pennsylvania falls demonstrate how immediate death can be. The leaves on the trees don’t require weeks to wither and fade. It can happen overnight. In just an instant, the world is changed. That’s a process that seems too jarring for me. Growth requires time. New life takes a series of small moments of change strung together. It takes slow changes in temperature, quiet saturation of rain and arms wide open absorption of sunshine all over the course of days and weeks.
When it comes to my home, I can’t help but invite that season of change to cross through my windows and bring refreshment to our living space. A lingering symptom of living in New England is swapping out my winter bedding for lighter, airier fabrics that coordinate with the rising temperatures and breezy winds outside my window. There’s nothing like clean sheets and after a long season of hiding from frigid temperatures behind closed windows and pulled curtains, our bodies and souls are aching to feel lighter. So with that comes a trade. I swap out my heavy flannel and down for airy linens and cottons. In just a few moments, our sleeping space is transitioned to match the weightless feelings brought in by the constant breezes flowing through our open windows.
This spring is particularly full of change for our household. In addition to refreshing bedding and arranging patio furniture, we’ve been working on a completely new room. Just across the hall, soft green walls and delicate gray fabrics are ready and waiting for our baby boy to arrive. We’re counting down on an undeterminable series of weeks and days until he’s here. While pregnancy hasn’t been a walk in the park for my body and soul, I’m grateful that it’s taken its time. The slow changes have given me time to process and prepare. Like spring, my body has given way to growing new life that has required a full season of change. Each change started small and added up to one intimidatingly big shift, but the timing has been perfect. With each warm breeze that whips through my hair and each sunbeam that warms my face and bare arms, I am reminded that change is on the horizon. While the change may be huge, I’m feeling ready for it.
While I wait, I’ll be nestled amongst the light fabrics on our bed breathing in the fresh air from all four wide open windows. I’ll be here partly because I can’t get enough of that spring smell and partly because this is the only piece of furniture that brings my aching body any relief these days. Soon, I’ll be able to move a little faster and more frequently. Until then, I’m content here in my fresh space, breathing deeply and giving my mind and soul the last few moments of time they need to prepare for this big change.
Until next time!