BLOG 63: Four Seasons and a Gunshot

“Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.” The Happy Valley Set Kenya 1925-1942

There is little more life affirming than the changing of the seasons.

I do pity those who live in climates where seasons are defined only by rainfall. How much they miss. I recall in the film “White Mischief” the character played by Sarah Miles got up drew back her curtains and looked out to a glorious view over the Wanjohi Valley and said “Oh God! Not another fucking beautiful day” and promptly shot herself. I recall the gasp around the cinema – but I think we all got it…life needs variety and without it even perfection becomes deathly repetitive.

Northern Europe of course never threatens to give us the weather Ms Miles character had to endure in Kenya. We have defined seasons which follow closely the pattern of life itself, each season with a unique developmental stage just like people.

The cycle starts for me in winter. The absence of clutter, with the trees bare, the pathways free from leaves, the air crisp and the sky the bluest of blues. The deep snowfalls act like a blanket protecting all that has come before and nurturing all that is to come. Winter always fools me as a time when things end, but then shakes me with just how much strength it holds…. A little like a matriarch of a family, dangerous to underestimate and full of purpose.

Then comes spring. It battles the remnants of winter and showing itself to be a new force all of its own. Like a baby’s first cries distinguish it as separate from the mother who carried it, spring demands to be acknowledged separately. It does what a million springs have done before, push up tender green buds, and delicate shoots – and we applaud as if we’ve never seen it before as we do when a baby first reaches for a rattle or sits up unaided. The toddler stage follows swiftly on as flowers burst forth and lawns become green. We feel the hope of a new start.

Summer is as brash as any young child – the blueness of the sky, the yellowness of the sun, the embracing heat of day and the distance to the night. Summer is a time of action and plans and using up every one of those long minutes of daylight – it is full of possibility. But like childhood summer has two halves. In the latter half it becomes a teenager, sunshine mixed with sulky storms – impossible to predict. But we find ourselves indulgent with hope that this is just a phase and that the joy of early summer may return.

Without warning we find ourselves in autumn. The garishness of a childlike summer fades to muted shades that carry a unique and short lived beauty. The burnished golds, reds and maroons that tumble from the trees enthral us. The bounty of fruit and crops, the unexpected warmth the sun has despite the coolness of the air. Early autumn is like the first stage of adulthood dazzling in its outward beauty, rewarding in its life enhancing crop. Then comes the second half where all that was beautiful becomes piles of leaves for children to jump on and throw giddily in the air. The sky returns to that bluest of blue and while the sun still can blind with its light, it holds little heat. Yet we cling onto this period as always we are never as ready for winter as we should be – even though we know once in it there will be no fear- but we are not quite ready yet.

I love the rituals we follow for each season.

In winter, with the nights longer than the days, we become a more indoors people. We fill our homes with the warmth the sun can no longer deliver and to enter from outside becomes a joyous experience. Our empty living rooms become the hub of life and are lived in once more. There never seems enough room on the sofa. Later into the season we decorate our streets and homes with a multitude of twinkling lights and bring trees inside. We are more sociable, and feel obliged to meet up with everyone before the season is out.

In spring, with the first signs of something new afoot, we become industrious with clearing out the old. Spring cleaning is not a misnomer. We create space for what ever is to come. It’s a time of acting on resolutions made in the dark winter months, and a time when planting new life has its strongest appeal. Everything about spring encourages one to grow, to reach, to succeed.

In summer, with daylight lasting well into the night, we live outside. It becomes foolish to spend anytime more that necessary within man made walls. This is the time of picnics, travel, music festivals, carnivals, theme parks, barbeques and hitting the beach. After a lethargic period huddled on the sofa and watching TV, suddenly the nation feels the urge to play sport and tennis courts and swimming pools are full of wanna be Wimbledon stars and Olympians.

Come autumn, the great outdoors begins to lose its appeal. A certain joy is to had from a shorter allowance of daylight in that the pressure to always have something spectacular to do is alleviated. The simple pleasures like walking to observe the changing colours and jumping in piles of crispy leaves, becomes irresistible. Bonfires and fireworks, comfort food and comfort jumpers all ensure there is plenty to smile about.

There is so much to be said for living in a place where the climate undulates into such very different phases. I cannot imagine as much can be said for a climate that would be hot and dry for half a year – and hot and wet for the other.

I love the seasons here. I love the fact that we are assured that no matter what is happening in our own lives, that the bigger life that is all around us goes on.

The worries that torment you however large or small will pass in time – that is what the seasons tell me. It seems moments ago that I was trying to find which top exposed enough flattering flesh whilst hiding bingo wings… and now such summer worries are behind me as my favourite lambswool jumper makes a return. (Not an option for my friends who live in more temperate climes)

I think back to Sarah Miles in “White Mischief” flinging open the curtains and seeing the paradise that was never changing. She must have felt that like the climate, her personal problems (and for those who haven’t seen the film she had a few!) would never let up.

Not a problem here in the so called Garden of England! If the inevitability of change is reflected in the weather then I have little chance of throwing back my curtains and feeling stuck. Since I have been typing this, I have experienced quite a few climatic issues. At the start, the patio doors were flung wide open to welcome a pale blue sky and a watery sun while a gentle autumn breeze blew. Half way through I had to change position as the sunlight become so strong it caused glare on my screen. A little while ago I had to turn on the lights because it became so damn overcast and now as I type my last sentences… the patio door are locked tight in case the force 10 out there blows them off and the heating is on. Not much chance of me reaching for my revolver when I am experiencing four seasons in one day!

Never the less, I love the fact our seasons change. With each change of season come new challenges and new opportunities. I love that fact that all you have to is wait a while and we will be somewhere else. I wonder if it is truly a co-incidence that the most repressive societies are those for whom seasonal change is limited. I think to live with the ever changing seasons has taught those of us who do, that change is nothing to be afraid of.

And that said….I suppose I better get my bikini out… cause hey… you never know!

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