As someone from the upper region of the northern hemisphere, I was no stranger to all four seasons. I switched sports depending on what time of year it was; ice skating in the winter, basketball in the spring, softball in the summer, cross country in the fall. I watched farmers sow crops in spring and harvest in the fall. I knew what it meant when the geese formed triangles in the sky. The seasons were alive and well all around me, but I rarely paid attention to them. Like every child, I was asked which season was my favorite, just as surely as every child is asked what they want to be when they grow up. Sure, I had a favorite season and another that I was less fond of, but I never really thought about why that was.
After finishing high school, I moved south in search of an endless summer. Year-round average temperatures of 80 F/27 C was an absolute dream in my eyes. Over time, though, the sheen wore off and I started to feel more and more exhausted with each passing day, but I couldn’t understand why.
I then relocated to a city with all four seasons. Though the city was large and very busy, I felt a strong urge to slow down and rest. First, the changing colors of Autumn invited me to get cozy, then the biting cold of Winter yelled at me to bundle up and settle in. As insistent as those seasons were, I regret to say that I did not listen.
The modern world trudges along at an unyielding pace, the march to which I conform. Slow down? Never. Push through? Absolutely.
After what seemed like forever, Spring finally came skipping down the street. In a sing-song voice, Spring told me that it was time to shed the layer, get rejuvenated. But by then, I was too fatigued to be excited about Summer’s arrival.
I learned that in bustling cities, people do not slow down when the weather begins to cool. The chills of autumn winds and the snowy gusts of winter are mere conversations to modern folk. The sight of flowers beginning to peek out of their bulbs and the return of the sun are just pleasant tidings, but neither changes the daily grind. Without acknowledging the messaging the seasons are trying to give, living in these types of climates can be just as exhausting as a perpetual summer.
Burnout, exhaustion, and a lack of motivation may be a sign that we have fallen out of sync with our surroundings. Maybe listening to the signals of the seasons could be a way to regain balance in our lives? Maybe taking heed of the seasons would allow time for rest, time to plan, time to grow, and time to flourish?
Thinking about seasons in this way reminds me of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. In each concerti, the personality of the respective season is expressed through patterns in the notes. Naturally, Winter sounds more melancholy than Summer, but that does not mean it is not without its own climactic moment. Moments of excitement and moments of calm are what make the songs dynamic, and these elements are present in the naturally occurring seasons as well.
Now, when I am asked what my favorite season is, I have my answer ready and know exactly the reason why.
Thanks for reading.
TJ
LambCHNOPS 
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