Is it Spring Again, yet?

We each have an internal timetable that may or may not match objective reality. Cicero warns us that we have to act our age, or we will appear foolish. For every thing there is a season, the Old Testament intones. But what if you don't feel like the season you are allotted?

Yesterday was the first of October. The air was a bit chilly in the morning when I went for a walk. But I was amazed by the blossoms that greeted me! The honeysuckle flowers were not that surprising.

Honeysuckle on the First of October

 They had not bloomed that day, and soon they would be gone.  After all, two days earlier there were still plenty of yellow butterflies fluttering about.

But the lily white blossoms that I spotted in the serviceberry bush were brand new!

Serviceberry blossoms on the first of October

How did they suddenly decide to bloom forth when the weather turned cooler?

A closer look at the serviceberry blooming

And then I saw the cherry blossoms trembling in the cold breeze! So much bigger and more splendid than the serviceberry blooms, they seemed to proclaim that spring had finally sprung!

These fresh, newly opened blossoms had sprung forth on only one spot on the otherwise bare tree.

Cherry Blossoms on the First of October

What did they know that everyone else did not know? Were they answering a call of nature at odds with the nip of frost in the air?

Not to be outdone, the tiny, baby apple tree that we planted only last fall was suddenly showing a big pink blossom. This tree has yet to give fruit, and I don't believe it even bloomed this spring.

What makes flowers burst forth out of season?

 Is it foolish to want to give fruit when everything else is preparing for a long winter?

Blackberry blossom trying to bring forth fruit on the first of October

 Or do each of us  live by a different timetable, so that those who did not bloom in the spring get a second chance in the fall?

Everything in its Season

Now that I am paying more attention to my surroundings, I am noticing that there is a season to everything, sometimes a very fleeting one, when you can see a certain flower bloom or an animal having its young, and then just as quickly it's all over. Then it becomes the season for something else.

For the past few days, it has been honeysuckle season. The sweet smell is wafting in the air. The bees know this, and so they take advantage of this opportunity to fill up. Does honey made from honeysuckle taste sweeter?

When I go out and hear bees buzzing by the honeysuckle, that's when I decide to take pictures of bees by the honeysuckle. I don't ask them to pose. I'm just an opportunistic picture snapper.

Because the bees are busy going about their own business, sometimes they don't pause long enough for me to get a good picture. Sometimes they even turn their backs on me!

The first cherry tree is also coming into season right now. If we want to pick its cherries, we have to do so soon, because we have many competitors.

For humans and chimpanzees. the seasons are a bit longer. You don't see significant changes every day, though every day is different, nonetheless.

There are changes in our behavior and our appearance, and in our day to day interactions, but the changes are more subtle.

How do I choose what to photograph? How do I choose what to write about? The answer is: whatever catches my eye. Whatever gets my attention. Whatever moves me. I have a new book coming out, scheduled for publication today. How did I choose what to write about? I think it was what was in season for me. At my time of life, at my stage of development, this is what caught my eye, captured my attention and made me think: what if a country rejected you, but you still loved it. 

Yesterday, it was skink season. Well, maybe it was not skink season for you, but it was for me. Here is how it happened. I went outside, and I saw a bee buzzing around my plants. "Maybe I'll take a picture of this bee," I thought to myself. But as I approached, the bee buzzed away. Then I saw a butterfly, and I got ready to take a picture, but it was gone before I could click. Then I heard some rustling and two skinks scampered away among the stones in my garden, each to a different position on the outer wall of my house. But not so fast that I could not film them.

The first skink was bigger and had less coloration around its face. It did not stick around very long, disappearing into a crack in the gutterwork by the roof. The second skink was smaller, slimmer and had a lot of reddish coloring around its face. It stayed around much longer.

What we write about is what we see. But what we see also depends on who we are and on our stage of life. I would not have seen those two skinks  a few years ago at the same time, because I might not have been alert enough to their existence, even if they were in season. It might have been skink season for everyone else, but not skink season for me.

What is in season for you today? Chances are that's what you're seeing.