My crabapple trees are blooming. And I have seen this in the general area which inspired these thoughts:
the coming of winter thoughts
Some things come to their winter. They come to the time to put them to their proper end -cover them over and look beyond.
Winter is not a time of blooming and we are surprised when we see it , as though it were out of time and we had forgotten it was possible. The mind becomes steeled for the barren and the frozen, and bloom out of it’s time disturbs that, it softens us in our memories and transports us to a delight out of season.
But then it is past and the turn of mind is again toward the elemental matters of a warm fire, a shining light, and a hot drink. The blooms will be held in their proper station of time, again.
Not everyone’s seasons are the same, but there is always some sort of marking of time and tasks.
I have always liked the Northern seasons, but their severity is not their attractiveness, not any more for me, anyway. Maybe it is their clarity of differentiation in the types of beauty and the comforts of each.
I am already thinking of winter. The unseasonal blooming of the crabapple trees was unsettling. This year I have been as though I wanted to become a chrysalis and then somehow miraculously emerge next year as something wonderful and beautiful and able to fly.