The Season's Changing

I sit alone at my desk near the window. Everyone else has left for the day. Cole is crooning to me between instrumental versions of Moon River and That's All. The day is sunny, but cold and crisp. Moments of absolute stillness and quiet are surprised by sudden bursts of wind. The leaves give up and fall, and those on foot fight against the force on their coat lapels. There is a sense of urgency out there, of impending cold and frost. Quick, look at the scene before the trees are bare and painted white with snow! It will be here before we know it. I am not afraid of the next change of seasons though, and am long used to frigid Halloweens (coats over costumes, snow under stilettos). This morning greeted us with frost on the windows and flowers, for the first time. I added a layer on my way to work and hid my hands in thick downy pockets. The river still flows, but its color is no longer aqua or green, it's the final midnight blue before it goes black--always inky before the blocks of ice come flowing West, and then the edges freeze over completely. Leaves are slow to change this year, so I await the final act when it all goes red like leafy fire--before the chilly winds come blow it out. It is easy to love this place during an easy, sunny Summer, but to love her as she cools takes a true Montana friend. Seeing her through the cold and rough, rewarded with these vibrant Falls, crystal Winters and inspiring Springs. I look forward to the moment when this amber season gives way to the diamonds of the colder months. What a gift we're given here, so close to nature you can breathe her in, feel her shift and settle with the seasons, recognize the beauty of each dramatic mood. I can't imagine being anywhere else.

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