Dawn's Notes
Seasons - September 2016
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
She slipped in almost unnoticed on that September day. There were few tell-tale signs of her arrival, since the landscape was still mostly green. An occasional field of soybeans showed a tinge of yellow, and the rusty-colored milo stalks held their heads high with seeds pods that were “heading out.”
But in the past few weeks since her arrival, things have begun to change; she is making her presence known! Some of the soybean fields have turned brown. The beans are dry, awaiting harvest; some have already been harvested. Other fields are glowing yellow in the sun.
The mornings are now on the chilly side with temperatures in the 50s. Barn swallows have long ago flown south even before her arrival. Buffeted by the Kansas winds, monarchs and dragonflies have been migrating to warmer climates in order to escape the cold of winter, to ensure that baby monarchs and dragonflies once more grace our world next year. Soon we will hear the honk of geese winging their way south.
Squirrels are scurrying around, picking up walnuts that they will plant in unusual places, including our flower beds and garden. During the winter, the walnuts will freeze and pop open. Come spring time, small green walnut trees will emerge. They will be chopped down—where the squirrels planted them will not work out for full-grown walnut trees.
A lone yellow lily blooms in our flowerbed alongside an occasional purple salvia blossom. Crab grass aggressively competes with the flowers for space, reaching its tentacles outward, meandering through the flower bed. The grass seeds itself, trying to establish squatter’s rights where it does not belong. So I pull the grass out, determined to rescue the flowers from the clutch of the determined grass.
Our garden is almost dried up. Some red and yellow tomatoes still cling to their now brown host vines that we will soon be pulled up and burned. Our bell peppers are at their peak—green ones and red ones cling to the plants, shiny and ready for the picking!
Neighbors are busy splitting wood, filling their racks with rows of wood that will keep their home warm in the cold weather that is ahead. The forecast for tonight is for north-northwest winds that will issue in a cold front that will cause the temperatures to dip downward into the 30s and 40s—the neighbor’s outdoor stove will probably be fired up soon, piping heat into their house.
Yes, seasons change, and autumn is here—she has arrived in style! She slipped in, pushing summertime aside. Each day autumn is showing off her strength and beauty. Maples are wearing splotches of bright red and orange, and soon more trees will be ablaze with colors.
Then the leaves will dance their way to the ground and form a bright carpet of colors, leaving their host trees bare. Patches of bright-green winter wheat are growing here and there alongside the roads. But as the days become shorter, temperatures will become cold and stifle the growth of the wheat.
The changing seasons are like the seasons of our lives—spring quickly giving way to summer, summer to autumn, with winter to follow. If you are older, like I am, you may feel the signs of autumn in your body and the sadness of grief in your heart.
After the death of someone you love, your heart most likely aches. But as in nature, your sadness will gently soften and your “spring” will slip in almost unnoticed, nudging aside sadness after your “winter” season, replacing grief with new beauty and life.
As in the seasons, life brings both joys and sorrows. Since we are still alive, our work on Earth is not yet finished; we are here for a purpose. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” Ecclesiastes 3:1. Seasons—autumn is glorious, but so is the spring—watch for her arrival!
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator