More and more, I try to live in harmony with the seasons, not the clock.
Here in the Midwest, we’re experts at seasons. And I definitely pick projects and to-do items that reflect the time of year. Winter? Get outside and shovel, and a few photographer interviews. Spring? Yard work and thinking ahead to summer projects. Fall? Finish up projects, enjoy a shit ton of apple cider, try roasting some acorns, etc.
Maybe I’m a creature of habit, but the seasonal routines are very comforting for me.
Start the crockpots full of chili, folks. It’s autumn.
August in Michigan means hot days, cooler mornings, and a slow dive into autumn.
For me, it’s always the seasonal transitions that are the most fun to photograph. Summer is nice, sure, but the end of summer always holds something special.
Same for when spring (my favorite) comes, and the fog rolls in as the snow melts. Or when winter starts frosting the yet-to-fall leaves.
This time of year is always hard for me emotionally, for some reason. I don’t know if it’s because Winter Is Coming™, or the days are shortening, or what. But I get to feeling down. The last few years, I’ve tried to work my way out of the funk with a few photo projects and writing more.
Big transitions in my life the past year or so: the birth of my daughter, a new job, getting ready to sell our house and move into the city.
So it is with the seasons as well. The temperatures here in Michigan are dropping steadily, the leaves are changing, pumpkins are popping up at roadside stands. Autumn is in the air.
Much like last year, I’m trying to stay on top of all the transitions and stay involved with creative projects. It’s tough. And I’m not working on anything specific now, but I have some ideas and plans brewing.
I wait all year for May days. Those warm, sunny, apple-blossom-scented days with a gentle breeze and the birds chirping. After a cold, bitter winter in Michigan, it’s these kinds of days in May that keep us all sane. Gives us something to look forward to.
The problem this year is that the tree blossoms won’t last long, with the wind and the rain. Us and the bees – we have a short window of springtime opportunity.
So make it last.
Make it last and give us a bit of the warm, pleasant days before the grogginess of summer. Before our modest humidity takes hold, and people start turning on their air conditioners.
Give us a few days of short-sleeves-and-pants weather, where we won’t be all sticky by sundown. Where we can warm up in the sun, and cool off with the breeze.
Let that scent linger, just a little bit, and fill our nose with memories and hope. Give the bees something to be busy with.