And the seasons, they go round and round...

Some of the trees in our neighborhood have almost completely changed color. In anticipation of Autumn Equinox? Due to drought stress? We may never know for sure. but that doesn’t keep us from appreciating their beauty.

maple turned maroon

Photo by J. Harrington

I doubt very much I’d ever be happy living somewhere that didn’t have four seasons. I’ve lived all my life in either New England or Minnesota. Each has the requisite seasons and, I may be biased, but I believe New England does a better job of it. Minnesota rarely, if ever, has a Spring worth celebrating. It’s usually short, full of mud and unseasonable snow storms and ends abruptly with a series of days in the upper 80’s or low 90’s. Climate change now seems to be messing with autumn. Of course, since I’ve not lived in Massachusetts for some decades, I can’t be sure seasons there haven’t deteriorated too.

All of the preceding has me wondering if I would enjoy and appreciate living with something I just learned about last night. While reading a book the Better Half lent me some weeks ago, I discovered that the Japanese take the same four seasons and subdivide them again and again, ending up with 72 seasons, each about 5 days long.

On one hand, the more I learn and experience in phenology, the more I enjoy seasonal change. On the other hand, I’m not sure how I’d respond to having a new season once a week. I’ve been getting accustomed to the Celtic/Druid eightfold wheel of the year, but it’s a big, big, almost ten fold, jump from 8 to 72. What I am now really curious about is if local phenology can provide some sort of equivalent to the Japanese microseasons. I think I’ll see if I can cobble something together. There’s an Aldo Leopold Foundation phenology calendar and the Journey North web site for resources. There’s also the Minnesota Weatherguide calendar and a handful of local books about seasonal events sitting on my shelves (the books, not the events).

[If you’re curious, the book that started all this is Seed to Dust by Marc Hamer.]

The Human Seasons

By John Keats

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

     There are four seasons in the mind of man:

He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

     Takes in all beauty with an easy span:

He has his Summer, when luxuriously

     Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves

To ruminate, and by such dreaming high

     Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

     He furleth close; contented so to look

On mists in idleness—to let fair things

     Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,

Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.