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.