Growing up in Texas, we basically had one season, Summer. Then in California, we had one season, Spring. Moving to Maine, I was warned that we had two seasons, "Winter and August." Fortunately, I have found this not to be the case. I've been documenting each of the four seasons evolve out my window:
 |
| Summer |
 |
| Fall |
 |
| Winter |
 |
| ??? |
"Spring" you say? Certainly that's what I would have thought. But I've been told that here, it is called "Mud Season." This is even posted around state signs at parks, "During Mud Season, . . . " Mud Season being the time when the snow is melting and over-saturating the ground, so that everything is squishy and a bit unstable.
I have found this squishiness to be true, but I have also felt some days lately that have felt like summer. I even saw 88 degree temperatures the other day. And yet, it has dropped back down to the 30's, and as I'm writing this, I see snow flurries out my window. Basically, I'm confused. Now I understand why people in this part of the country spend a great deal of time paying attention to weather reports, because you can't just trust today as an indicator of what things will be like tomorrow. I'll let you infer your own profound metaphors from that observation.
Whatever this season is supposed to be, it is beautiful. And it inspires Sofia and I to dance for joy.
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