Dither Me This is a weekly publication that presents current, old, spontaneous, or nonsensical musings for the reader to use as a writing prompt, discuss with a friend, lover, or to read and move on. Authors may present questions, creative processes, or thoughtful means to end the week; and while you may still be left staring at the walls, it is not without a new thought mulling the paint into iterative transformation. Thus we send waves into the electronic ether and see what is returned – extending a baton to the world, only a little afraid to let go.
10 – Seasons
Yesterday was the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. The sun lagged longer in the sky and higher than any other time of the year. There is something to be cherished about having such long days: the ability to go on 7PM bike rides, nearly mandated by the heat. In part, as a consequence of all of this photon energy, all of us in the mountains are treated to a flourish of water making way from the high peaks to the canyons and valleys below, eventually to the sea, adding a little more salt to the brine, picked up along the way.
Snow around the higher peaks remain only in snowdrifts, permeation of winter, remnants of the wind blown cold. The birds start to make more common appearances on their long journeys to secluded breeding grounds. Some climbs are put on hiatus until the colors of the leaves change in the trees to red and yellow, while others tucked in corners and the north sides of mountains become valued real estate. Plants will grow to their maximum potentials as the sun’s long rays linger into the early part of July.
Eventually they will be gone, these long days. August will come, with the abundance of garden harvests, and the farmers will praise that the weeds have slowed for lack of light. It will be harder and harder to get in that after-work hike or climbing session as the fall equinox crawls closer. The cold nights will be around the corner, snowflakes nipping at the heals. Goals will change from making it to your local swimming hole to getting your skis waxed before the next storm, or sharpening crampons for a fall ice flow.
As a culture we are realizing more and more how the only truth that exists is this moment. Properly planned, all these moments conflate into one great month; one great year; one great decade; and eventually, one great lifetime. It is easy to forget that everything starts on the smallest scale, moments sewing together the days. So don’t forget to get out there and enjoy these moments while you have them.
Lately I have been finding all my moments tied up chasing the aforementioned cascading water. What we boaters like to call “peak flow” only lasts a short time, and must be taken advantage of in the sense of witness. On which river, each boater chooses to take advantage of that is his/her own dealings and are inevitably left in the realm of pre-planning these moments. Nonetheless, seasonal sports, for myself, have the most allure. I get burned out quickly performing the same tasks for prolonged periods of time. In another month the water in the river will be less than half of what it is now. The flower petals will have dried and fallen to be consumed by the soil, leaving the ripening ovaries of the next generation of seed. I’ll be climbing or hiking in lieu of getting on the water, find some other way to pass the moments before the rose hips are ripened, or until I can slide downhill, fast in white, fluffy stuff.
In case you were waiting for someone to give you the go-ahead, go chase your moments. And they don’t have to be scaling a cliff without a rope or base jumping off a desert tower. They can be knitting a quilt or crocheting a hat for someone. They can be reading a book to a child; playing guitar or piano; helping in a soup kitchen; building a trail; writing a story; questioning authority; planting a tree; or having a daiquiri while the sun dips below the horizon. Choose them wisely, for these moments do not come back around.
How do you appreciate the seasons?
What changes do you love seeing?
Where have all your moments gone?
See you out there,
Ronjohn is a native to Colorado who spends most of his time recreating and some of his time writing. He currently lives in the area of Cotopaxi, CO with his dog, Muddy, where he guides rafts down the Arkansas river. He is the owner/operator of yourevolutionismyrevolution, and hopes to facilitate some of the change that we so desperately need socially.
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