seasons

About a mile down the road there's a corn field.  I drive past it several times each day, and feel a connection with the growing season, and note the parallels in nurturing children through their seasons of growth.  I watch for planting day in the Spring, when I can see the patterns in the dirt indicating that the seeds have been placed.  Then I mark the passage of summer on my trips past the field by the growth of the corn. It starts out barely poking through the dirt, and inches upward at a rate that seems to increase exponentially with each pass of the farmland.  Don't kids seem to grow that way, too?  One day you notice them, standing upright to clutch your knees; then you turn around and they're hugging you around the waist and before you know it, they're looking you in the eye.  This year summer got pretty dry.  I worried, and watched the leaves on the corn stalks curl inward and reach upward, as if begging for rain.  Then mercifully, we enjoyed many consecutive days of soaking afternoon thunder storms.  I was happy to see the leaves open up and relax in the sunlight, able to concentrate on that last push upward.  Finally, the golden tassels emerged an amazing seven to ten feet off the ground, as if to herald the end of summer; the passage of another successful season of growth.

It's always hard to let go of summer.

I'm grateful for seasons and growing and patterns that cultivate familiarity, comfort in change and letting go.