Reasons for Seasons

I’m sitting here watching the last baseball game of the Giants’ season. My eyes are filled with tears as I watch Brandon Crawford, their all-star shortstop of thirteen years, say farewell to the fans. It’s still unknown what he will do in the offseason, but this is his last game as a Giant. His children gather around him with such ferocious hugs; my heart fills with joy at witnessing that unconditional love. If you wonder why I adore the game of baseball, it’s for moments and stories like this.

I’m aware that my daily routine will change now. I won’t need to plan my days and nights around baseball games. That might be one reason I’ve always dreaded fall. It forces me to change, and, like most of my fellow humans, that makes me uncomfortable. I’m also a straight-up summer person. I need the sun, the warmth, and the blooming bounty that summer brings. Yet, Mother Nature rolls on with her unstoppable rhythm, unfazed by my silly human desires. She has her reasons for her seasons.

I’ve also had the song Turn! Turn! Turn! by The Byrds rattling around in my head. It was a popular song in my youth and has returned as an earworm that won’t dislodge. The refrain, To everything, there is a season, rumbles and tumbles in my brain.

I take this as a sign to sit outside on my deck and reflect.

I sense the air shift with the motor-like hum of approaching hummingbirds. Their iridescent green bodies dip and weave, flirting with the flowers I’ve planted specifically to attract them alongside the red sticky feeder I’ve filled with sugary water. I worry if I’ve made it too sweet or, perhaps, not sweet enough. I laugh at the thought. What a life I’ve built to worry about the hummingbirds’ diet!

I spend time trying to interpret the raucous caws of the blue jays up the hill. Are they yelling at Ollie as he sits in the sun, lazily cleaning his paws? In his little cat brain, I suspect he is fully aware that his presence is causing angst for his dark-feathered companions. I suspect he is loving it. What a life I’ve built to have time to wonder about the feelings of the critters in my backyard.

I listen to the giggles of young children walking to school. They gather with their parents on my corner driveway, eagerly squealing when their friends appear. Clasping hands, they sprint down the side road – never in a straight line like their parents – being pulled from bush to tree to dancing around a mailbox, noticing details the adults completely miss.

I remember when I wandered down the same street with my oldest son. He was convinced the sewer grate led to the Ninja Turtles’ den. It took months for him to accept they lived in New York City (not Belmont, California) and that he shouldn’t go climbing into the sewer. I wonder if this new generation peers down the grate and calls out to Donatello and Splinter.

What a life I’ve built to watch the next generation grow and thrive.

As I await my first grandchild, I am fully aware of the passage of time. It’s the natural rhythm of life. From summer to fall. From generation to generation. There are reasons we have seasons.

~ ~ ~

Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There is a Season)

Written by Pete Seeger

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under Heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rain, a time of sow
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.