Changing Seasons

For so long, the ground remained frozen. Frosted spiderwebs draping the pines had glittered under the paltry winter sun whenever the rolling clouds parted.

The denuded forms of other trees shivered in the harsh winds, bare branches like charcoal etchings bending under their adornment of snow.

Clusters of gnarled twigs extended like twisted fingers, the old man of winter reaching out to comfort their neighbours. The mossy, dark trunks against which drifts of snow rose in gentle waves of shimmering white.

Endless and beautiful, bitter and sweet to look upon—at least for a little while. For so long, it felt permanent. Gazing at those iced-out trees, imagining them redressed in all their finery, seemed impossible.

Until the first brave buds gradually grew out of winter’s rasp and the blossoms hidden within gave a tender promise of warmth to come.

Every great song requires its opening notes. A signal for the listener to settle in and savor every wondrous moment.

And so it was the same with Spring—it’s beauty declared by those first glimmers of new life on bare branches.

Spring awoke with a chatterbox of vivid greens as the barren land renewed and shook off its glacial coat. They relaxed into those brighter days like an old favorite armchair.

They changed with the shifting seasons. Romance and affection growing, growing, growing like the early blooms spreading their petals as the earth warmed.

Wildflowers burst from the ground and gave a feast to the buzzing bees and a place for butterflies to rest. Sticky pollen coated the yellow and black striped jackets the honey-makers wore as they bumbled through the floral air.

No more bare brown wands in the forest of trees. They bore rustling verdant cloaks bejeweled with morning dew. Spring was a developing photograph—the colours deepening and changing with the richness of the season.

As spring lay down her sleepy head, summer’s vivacious blooms sweetened her dreams.

The time of plenty had arrived like a whisper, building to a scream as the feverish hands of Summer sought their way into the world.

While springtime had sung a soft melody, a coaxing lullaby to ease them out of winter’s gelid grasp, summer turned it up to full volume.

Adding its own thrumming, intense beat as it heightened every hue.

The watercolours of spring became clashing, hyper-vivid—an immortal rainbow of acrylic paint.

And brought forth their boldest smiles. Summer stretched her fiery hand to even the coldest of hearts and ignited a blaze deep within.

Summer days opened as a letter from an insatiable lover. The balmy heat from a scorching sun turned unveiled skin to honey, ochre, or scarlet.

Tarmac glimmered with a haze of rippling heat as they moved through it and into fresh adventures.

The sky burned sapphire, and they burned brighter by the passing day. Birdsong and laughter, the tune of their lives as they planned and packed. They’d braved the transforming seasons together.

Through wool and fleece, April rains and slow days.

And now, with sunlights roasting embrace in full swing, they raced hand in hand into the golden horizon and flowed with the weather.

Romance, as gentle and fragile as a butterfly’s kiss, strengthened and soared.

Like the contrasting seasons, the best relationships were often between two people who are not the same, yet complimentary. Each of them brought qualities that helped the other.

Luke’s calm, stoic, observant nature and dry sarcastic manner. Emilia’s forcefulness and impulsivity, her spirited sense of big-mouthed humor.

She helped him loosen up, see the world through Technicoloured eyes, and dragged him out of his shell.

He helped her slow down, take a seat and watch the ever-evolving world go by, teaching her that not every moment had to come in as a hurricane.

Slow, lazy Sunday mornings cuddled under a blanket with him became her remedy for the chaos of her life.

Fast-paced, jewel toned nights out, dancing or dining together no matter the season, showed Luke a side of himself he hadn’t known before.

But as the weather could refuse to be predicted, disagreements and tensions over silly things like whose turn it was to pay for dinner—Luke liked to take care of her.

But she enjoyed paying for him, too. Or when she thought he’d never tell his family about her, her overactive brain convinced her she was his dirty little secret.

Just to discover he never shut up about her in his family group chat. Plus, he’d planned for his parents to come over and meet her before their first real Christmas together. Fights broke out.

She slammed her door as the wind slammed into the pines.

His sigh followed her like a ghost in those moments. Her temper sparking like fire on gasoline.

His simmering deep below his stone-faced surface. Hot headed but quick to get over it, they’d wait out the rain and return to each other before nightfall.

Neither wanting to sleep before settling it.

Those disputes had the substance of an early morning mist creeping through the forest, both unable to recall what they were angry about mere days later.

They were learning, figuring out how to fit into each other’s lives, and create one together all at once.

It wasn’t easy. But it wasn’t impossible. It was incredibly rewarding to turn each page and write their story. The good always comes with a dose of bad.

It was life in all its glory.

And as they curled up in his bed, alarms set for their three am drive to the airport, Emilia and Luke did not know what was coming next. Or how it would change them.

But both welcomed it with a daring grin. Arms spread wide, their intertwined hands beckoning it closer.

Emilia had only one question for their first vacation in the morning.

How would Luke handle meeting her raucous brother?

She’d warned Oliver to behave. She may as well beg a tornado to stop destroying the land it scoured over for all the good that would do.

Her brother didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘peaceful.’

Oliver raged like a savage summer storm that was impossible to outrun. Luke would be the rock against which Oliver’s tsunami personality would crash into.

She had pre-warned her lover. Showed him clips she’d taken of Oliver’s antics during previous vacations and he’d claimed he’d be fine. He was used to boisterous siblings.

She prayed he was right. Part of her couldn’t wait to witness their meeting.

Most of her wanted to tie her brother up, gag the idiot, and shove him in a cupboard until they left for home again. She’d buy Luke earplugs at the airport just in case.

And a bottle of whiskey.

It was the least she could do.

If Luke thought she was loud, he had heard nothing yet!