Seasons
Crossroad
“When
the sun is shining, I can do anything; no mountain is too high, no
trouble too difficult to overcome.”
Wilma
Rudolph
Here in the Deep South,
we have barely seen the sun in more than a month. What we have seen
is rain and more rain—and still more rain. The skies are gray and
mad looking, the rivers flow out of their banks, and multiple
tornadoes touched down over the weekend killing twenty-plus people
near Opelika, AL. We may not be snowed under, like many regions of
the country, but tornado season is a real and present danger in this
not-so-sunny part of the world. When the sun does break through,
everyone runs outside with their dogs and children and basks in it.
We don't realize how much we need sunshine until we are deprived of
it for weeks.
Plants deprived of the
sun's light for too long grow spindly, and pale. So do we. Our mood
sinks and turns grumpy, our bodies hurt for no reason, and we feel
mildly depressed. We need sunlight to produce some of the hormones
and neurotransmitters in our brains, and when those get low, we feel
bad. Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real thing. Getting outside,
even on an overcast day will help. And when the sun actually shines,
run out there and soak it up.
Let us remember that
later this month we will celebrate the Vernal Equinox. Spring will
come, as it always does. I find it helpful to bring flowers into the
house, even if you have to buy them. Their beauty raises the mood.
Here, in spite of cold and rain, things are blooming—narcissus,
jonquils, tulips, camellias, forsythia. They are harbingers of spring
inside the house as well as out. Small symbols of the sunlight that
will come.
The other thing that
brightens one's mood is to create something that portends Spring—a
flag for the porch, a wreath for the front door. I'm making new
pillows for the porch furniture in anticipation of the warm weather.
For me, these preparations speak of hope. Another creative endeavor
is to make the last of the winter season's soups—the hearty ones
that will be too heavy once the sun comes out—potato, bean, stew,
lentil. It is a small way of honoring the outgoing season and bidding
it farewell.
We are at the crossroad
between seasons, when we are neither here nor there. It is helpful to
consciously accept that transition and allow the mixed messages of it
to be okay. Dress in layers, take an umbrella, do whatever helps you
not to fight the changing weather. This is the way it is, and we do
best when we simply acknowledge that, and roll with it. It is the
moody fussing and fretting about what isn't that brings us down.
Tomorrow is Mardi
Gras—Fat Tuesday. Celebrate a little. It means Spring is just
around the corner. And with it comes the sun—ah, such a welcome
blessing.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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