I don't know what it's like where you live, but here in Vermont we've added a few unofficial seasons to our calendar year. When I was in grade school, I remember quite a few kids missing school for multiple days during ski season, returning to class with distinct goggle tans and stories of their time on the slopes. During mud season, everyone knows to avoid the hilly, windy, dirt roads (that is, unless you don't have a choice and live on one of those dirt roads!).
And then there's stick season — the time between peak foliage and the first snow. The leaves have dropped and the landscape is a bleak array of grey and brown leafless trees. Just sticks, both on the ground and silhouetted against the sky.
That's where we find ourselves now, in what should be stick season, only this year is a bit different. Looking around, it's as if we jumped from the reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn straight into the snowy wonderland of winter, skipping stick season altogether.
Walking in our back woods last week
Even with the weather forecast of snow and "wintery mix", nothing quite prepared me emotionally for the sideways snow blowing in my face as I shoveled the walkway. Not in early November, at least!
Life is full of little — and sometimes not-so-little — moments like this. Moments that catch us off guard and push us into a state where we must choose to either fight or adapt.
Seeing our chickens' dismay and shock at the sudden snowfall caused me to think about the animals living in the forest behind our home. Had they also been caught off guard, forced to quickly adapt after waking up to their world covered in snow? Or had their natural instincts prepared them for the quick change in temperature and conditions?
Time and time again I'm inspired by the natural world around us...
Join me over on the blog for a deeper reflection on gleaning wisdom from nature and embracing autumn as the beginning of a new year — an invitation to reset, reflect, and restore.
May you find peace and hope here in these late autumn days, whether you're living in the midst of stick season or walking through an early winter wonderland.
With gratitude and love,
P.S. Please don't hesitate to reach out to me directly — I'd love to hear from you. Introduce yourself and share any of your own reflections on the wonders of nature. Simply reply to this email, and your message will go directly to my inbox.
