Turn, turn, turn

I must admit I feel a twinge of jealousy when friends living in temperate countries write and mention in their e-mails 'the signs of coming winter', the nippy weather, the frost, etc.

I love the four temperate seasons - best of all the cool-to-cold autumn, winter and spring. I'm not much of a summer person, which is ironic as I currently live in a hot clime.

When in England, I used to love waking up and beginning the day by looking out of my window onto the expanse of grass outside. It was like opening a new, surprise gift every day ... not knowing what to expect. One day it would be green. One day it would be silver (frost). One day it would be unexpectedly sleeping under a serene, untouched blanket of white. One day there would be footprints and other kinds of prints in the snow. One day there would be little green shoots pushing out of the white expanse. One day there would be slush or white patches. One day there would be a whole set of yellow daffodils ...

Here we have two seasons - wet (which I prefer) and dry. Waking up in the morning there's not the diverse variety in terms of drastic changes in temperature and things like frost, sleet, snow, sudden new flowers, etc. Mostly I see the variety above, in the sky and the clouds. Every morning when I go for my walk there's something different about them that attracts me ... not so much like opening a new gift, but like observing a new painting.

Today the sun was shooting out in massive rays from behind the cloud bank, looking like a scene from one of those religious movies. The angels would have been chorusing and it would have been symbolic of some new beginning or great revelation.

*
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die.
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to build up, a time to break down.
A time to dance, a time to mourn.
A time to cast away stones.
A time to gather stones together.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time of love, a time of hate.
A time of war, a time of peace.
A time you may embrace.
A time to refrain from embracing.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to gain, a time to lose.
A time to rend, a time to sow.
A time for love, a time for hate.
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

(The Byrds)