I let the dogs out for one last constitutional before bed and stood on the deck overlooking our back yard. The air was room temperature — 68 degrees according to the weather app — and filled with the sound of crickets and other nighttime singing creatures. Everything was green and summer-lush.
I tried to imagine the same scene absolutely quiet, the air so cold I need to wear a coat even for just a few minutes, and the ground covered with a deep layer of snow, everything white and gray.
In my head I know it’s possible — not only possible but completely likely, because I have been here and under those conditions time and time again. In the middle of summer my heart screams no, it can never be — just as it does when I stand in the cold and try to imagine a lush, green night full of life sounds.
The cycle of the four seasons is a fascinating phenomenon. Just as we live different lives within the span of “one” lifetime, we live in four different worlds by staying in the same place, year after year.