Seasons

One thing about living in the same place for many years is the ability to observe changes, both cyclical and long term. On my walks along the main streets and back roads of town I can watch for all the seasonal markers. The crocuses and tulips will be found in the little yards of the cottages on South Street and across the street the azaleas will bloom in front of the stately old homes. There are lilac bushes at the edge of the landscaped yard of that nice house on North. Lily-of-the-valley will emerge out of the patch of undergrowth on the roadside on Bruce and later in the summer there’ll be jewelweed and then goldenrod and ragweed on the other side. I know where the maples will turn red and yellow in the fall, and where the berries will add their dots of color to the winter monochrome.

And then there are the bigger changes. Welcome ones like a good grocery store and the latte shop added onto the country store; less welcome ones like the overabundance of new houses and traffic. From my back windows I can see part of the 18-hole golf course that opened across the valley last year. There are new traffic lights at congested intersections, and house and condo values have gone up along with our taxes. Neighbors in my condo building have come and gone; housemates and boyfriends have too. Next month I will have owned this place for 17 years and lived here all but the two in the middle when I moved in with someone. And to think I’ve refrained from planting bulbs out front every fall because I never thought I’d still be here in spring.

I am sitting on my back deck under a patio umbrella, typing on my laptop PC. When I first moved here, it was so hot on the deck in summer I couldn’t sit out until the late afternoon sun had arced over the roof to redirect its heat to my front rooms. In the harsh midday sun out here I could grow tomato plants in pots and fill my window boxes with sun-loving geraniums. Over the years, the trees out back have grown tall and thick, and my hothouse has been replaced with an airy, green-canopied refuge. Now I keep shade-preferring impatiens in the window boxes and I can manage a few herbs positioned to catch a small patch of unimpeded sunlight. Some changes are predictable, others unexpected. I guess I’m finding I can adapt pretty well to both.

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