Seasons

The seasons speak to me. It is in observing the seasons that I become more aware of God and myself and the intertwining of the two.

The other day, I visited a trail near my house. It’s a popular trail that I have primarily visited in the winter. As I headed up the trail, I noticed the blooming flowers and the fresh green of the trees and the singing birds.

And I got to this section of the trail that, in winter, is intimidating. It’s at a section that gets direct sunlight, melting the top layer of snow during the day. But quickly refreezing overnight. The result is an icy, treacherous section of trail. I typically bushwhack my way around to a place where I can gently slide down, a few feet at a time (for whatever reason, I always go counter-clockwise and set myself up for a slide down the ice, rather than a climb up it).

But in the summer…with no snow to melt and no melted snow to refreeze, this section wasn’t a concern. I scrambled up and over the grippy rocks without any concern. No spikes, poles, or helmet necessary.

And it made me consider how each season of life comes at us with different expectations and different requirements. I prepare for a hike in the summer differently than I prepare for a hike in the winter…or even a hike in the spring or fall! Each season requires different gear and a different sort of preparation.