Seasons

Spring in Mount Shasta, 2004: More than anyplace I’ve lived, the seasons here arrive with a flourish. In our yard, the pear tree already sports thick white blossoms in the chill early air. The sunlight peeps over the mountain and slants down into our back yard.

The apple tree sprouts tiny pink flowers above the deck, the birch on the corner shapes itself into a shower of green, and the lilac outside the big window grows leaves and white blossoms as you watch. Time flows. The force that through the green fuse drives the flower.

Spring. And I’m 60 today.

My life looks like seasons now.

This morning Kyle and Jeremy arrived at 7:30 up to the front door, alarming Lizzie most wonderfully. They’re stringing tough networking cable from my office by the garage. Under the grass, beneath the earth and around the side of the house, to include Adrienne’s computer. She’s building her Bandana Canyon website to sell bandanas, dog toys, and K-9 cookies.

SEASONS IN LIFE
Kyle and Jeremy are around 23. When you’re a guy at 23, you’re starting to know stuff about the world. You just get stronger and stronger, up to about 35, coming into your power. Your power in the world continues to grow till at least 45, but your bounce and energy level off, and perhaps begin to fade. Now, at 60, I’m starting to have some creaks. Moving more carefully.

You get smarter. But I’ve heard it said, and believe it true, that it’s amazing how much ‘Mature Wisdom’ resembles just being tired.

I’m not tired yet, but I can see how it might come to pass.

Some day.