A buzzard perches on a rain-blacked branch devoid of leaves. I cannot help but notice the bird as I pass, both of us huddled against the chill, it is the very image of winter. Dark fingers reach for the sky as if in supplication, as if the trees are praying for the sun, while the earth is warmed by a blanket of fallen glory.
The hedgerows wear motley. Evergreens and those few bushes that stubbornly refuse to shed their leaves are interspersed by flashes of colour and emptiness. And then there are those that cling, golden, to autumn. They say that for everything there is a season… but it appears that not everything agrees when those seasons should begin and end.
In the garden, where the hostas retreated long ago, hiding from the frost beneath the dark earth of winter, the roses refuse to relinquish summer. I cannot help thinking how alike we are, plants and people. Many will cling to the illusion of the past rather than accepting the reality of the present.
Others simply age in grace and beauty, needing no illusion to sustain them. Perhaps summer lives in their hearts so that they do not fear the frost, knowing change to be part of the rhythm of life.
In odd corners, the first daffodils are breaching the surface. Spring is already on its way before winter has truly begun; a promise of a tomorrow whose seeds were sown long ago. We see time as linear, but past, present and future are often so closely intertwined that it is impossible to separate them.
And then there are the rebels, the ones that take you by surprise and flower out of season. Spring anemones on the verge of bursting into bloom on a grey November day. Nature, like human nature, works at its own speed. The seasons we expect are no more than a generalisation; early bloomer or late, what does it matter, as long as we let ourselves grow?
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Reality of life. Wonderfully expressed.
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So beautiful from the inside, open out to those flowers.🌹👍
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🙂
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I often wonder if Nature gets a little bored with routine sometimes, provoking these delightful, if foolish deviations?
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What a wonderful idea, Jaye… Nature playing 🙂
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There is no real ‘dead’ season. Growth slows down above ground in the winter, but there’s always something willing to risk it.
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Winter is just the staging area for spring 😉
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It tidies up some of the more exuberant growth, leaves room for new.
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Nature is a beautiful thing. Lovely photos x
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She is always full of surprises 🙂
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Nature is amazing 💜💜💜
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Oh yes she is ❤
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And we love her 💜
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❤
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Another wonderful post linking the wisdom and lessons of nature to our lives, Sue. I love it when you travel these paths and share your discoveries. ❤
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If only there were time enough to share everything.
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Your descriptions are vivid Sue. Love the picture of that red rose.
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It is covered in buds still… and has a pure white heart.
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How beautiful. All three of our rose bushes seem to be recovering so I hope the frost doesn’t get to them.
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I’ve planted eighteen rose bushed at Nick’s…and they are all doing well. Fingers crossed on the frost!
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yay!
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“Fie to the notions of seasonal supposed-to’s and shoulds,” say the flowers! 😀
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They are doing their own thing regardless 😉
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My tiny roses are also hiding and somehow, surviving when everything else is gone … except some of the wild vines which are growing like mad.
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It was warm enough to wake the fish in Nick’s pond yesterday…and cold enough last night that I had to shut the window.
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Yes, as long as we let ourselves grow. Well said, Sue. This was a lovely, poignant post.
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Thank you, Jennie.
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You’re welcome, Sue.
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This really is quite amazing, Sue. I didn’t know daffodils made their presence know before the beginning of the winter.
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They are really not supposed to, Robbie. But these ones are coming up early.
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Reblogged this on Loleta Abi Author & Book Blogger and commented:
A thread of life throughout the seasons.
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