seasons.

Photo credit: Erika Todd

Earlier in the week, we checked the weather report and laughed. "Snow on Friday? It's October! What's going on?" After three days of non-stop rain, we woke up on Friday to a bright, sunny day, the snow falling steadily. A classic scene of winter in New England, except it was the day before Halloween, not the day before Christmas. I smiled, loving the beauty and the quiet, and yet knowing what the reactions would be all around me. People would complain and throw up their hands, as they love to do when the weather is surprising; others would complain about the snow because that's always their reaction to snow; my family in Florida would feel sorry for us and send pictures of their much warmer day. 

And yet, I was happy. Yes, this was unseasonably cold. Yes, it was crazy to have this much snow in our yard before Halloween. Yes, this seemed somehow unsurprising since 2020 has been one shock after another.

But I had the best day. I played in the snow all day with my daughter, whose giggles as we threw snowballs seemed to melt away every anxiety I've been carrying with me for the past year. As she rested on the couch after we came inside, I sat at the kitchen table and looked out the picture window, snow coating the tall pine trees and blanketing the yard. It was too early for winter--but it was a reminder that winter is coming.

For many people, approaching winter is cause for despair. I generally don't mind the winter, because I love seasons, enjoy the snow, and hate being hot (I'm far more likely to complain in July than February). And this year, this season, I needed the reminder that winter would be here soon. 

Heading into the fall, we braced ourselves for chaos, anxiety, and stress: my last semester of nursing school, my last trimester of pregnancy, a home addition project. Also in the background: civil and social unrest, a raging pandemic, a significant election. I would be in the middle of studying, answering emails with the mortgage company and the architect, and trying to convince my baby to stop jumping on my bladder. I'd look at Kevin and say, "I can't wait till January. I'll be done with school, we'll be done with the addition, and the baby will be here. Things won't be easier, but we'll know that we've gotten through all of this."

So on Friday, October 30, in the middle of fall, I looked out at that beautiful, pure falling snow and smiled. Winter is coming. The seasons change and the world moves on, taking us with it. The snow reminded me that this chaotic season is still just a season. It's temporary, transient. Most years, we wish fall could last longer, the beautiful crisp clear days and blue skies seeming to end far too soon.

But this year is different, in every way possible. We take nothing for granted, and have a hard time making future plans because the future seems so uncertain. But winter is coming. And then the spring. And the summer. And another fall, and another winter, and so on. 

In the middle of a season whose uncertainty is suffocating, the snow reminded me that the uncertainty is not forever. This season is not forever. Even this year--it will end. It may have more shocks along the way, and it may feel like far too much for any of us to carry or hold at once--but the world continues to turn, the seasons change, the snow falls. 

And for that beautiful, cleansing reminder in the form of freshly fallen snow, I am grateful.