Most of the time I love living in Nova Scotia!
For the longest time living in Charleston, SC (also not a bad place to live) we forgot there was this thing called seasons. We joked that the only way you knew the season had changed was when the spartina grass in the marsh changed from green to brown. As beautiful as it was, there weren’t a lot of “seasons.”
That is not the case here! You know about seasons! We have at least 4—and something you get at least 3 in one day! And I love them all! I had forgotten that leaves change colors! But wandering around in the fall with the brilliance of colors was just breathtaking. (Or that could have been the trek Anita took me on in Cape Breton!) I think that is my favorite!
And spring? I have never been to Ireland but I have heard about the green there. But let me say that it will be hard pressed to beat the green of spring here. I have never seen such green, adorned with apple blossoms. No, I think that is my favorite!
And summer? When the days are long and warm; when you can get off work and still have time for 18 holes of golf before the sun goes down? When you can go down and see whales frolicking in the Bay of Fundy? When some people get in the water (not me! I am not THAT Canadian!) When you don’t have to worry about air conditioning (we don’t have it) and the heat isn’t on! Ah, summer has always been my favorite season!
But winter? We joke about it being cold, and it is, but when you have that gorgeous blue sky day and the ground is covered in snow. You bundle up and get out and the beauty just takes your breath away. OK, it could be the cold but it is just gorgeous! THAT is my favorite!
You see the problem? It is really hard to claim a favorite. They are all just gorgeous, and are all a wonderful wonderful time to come and visit.
Except THIS season!
This is Mud Season!
It isn’t an official season, but it is now. This is that horrible season after the snow has melted but before things turn that verdant green. This is the time when the yard tempts you to come outside and examine the yard, only to hear your footsteps with that sound sucking sound, when you walk quickly to keep from sinking in. This is the season where everything is brown, and wet and cold, before the tractors get into the fields to offer a sign of hope.
I hate Mud Season!
It goes on forever—or so it seems.
It is so appropriate for Lent.
This is a time of sacrifice. It is a time to just slog through. It is a time of waiting.
It is a time of hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe new life will spring forth again.
In the land.
Even in me.