Seasons (from a mid-western perspective)  are altogether a beautiful illustration of life, aren’t they? I find myself fascinated with each seasonal transition. 
In the spring, everything is young, new, fresh and messy. We’re over zealous about everything just because it’s spring and things are NEW and pointing to the warmth of summer. We are ready, for something– anything to get us out of the indoors. Spring is like a breath of fresh air that gives life to a wintered soul. 

Summer is like the adolescent years. There are days of perfect temperatures and there are days of extreme temperatures. Some days it rains, some days it storms, and some days we get perfectly clear skies and a storm. You never quite know what you’re in for, but you live it up because it’s the mid-west in it’s prime. 
Fall…ah fall. Like a fresh perspective it comes. Like the end of a season is the season itself. The green life matures and before it dies becomes a shade more beautiful and more complimentary to it’s surroundings than any art I’ve seen. Some days it rains, as if mourning it’s youth. Good things we’ve waited for all summer are now in full bloom– ripe, mature, and ready for harvest. As the days go on, the temperatures becomes less and less like that of summer, more and more resembling winter. The leaves fall and all that is left are frames of what once held a perfect picture.
Winter I tend to look at two ways. The first, I think is fairly obvious, for those that enjoy warm weather as much as I. To me it figures death. It is the end of the plant life we experience all around during Spring, Summer and Fall. With it comes a covering of all we once could see. Colors fade and the mid-west becomes  a black and white photo. Yet it is , to me, still beautiful.  While it seems to be the end, it is not– only a fresh start to another beginning. It bleeds into the new life represented in spring with it’s white covering that embodies a fresh start. It is altogether lovely.
So many pictures you can pull from the seasons and add to them your thoughts, as well as spiritualistic elements to be sure. 
I’ll leave it open to you’re own conclusion. 

Dedicated to our beautiful horse with whom I enjoyed many seasons of riding as he basically watched me grow up. The new season of life without a pet causes me to ponder and mourn what has been lost, and to thank God for what he gave and for what he will continue to bless us with. 

“There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 

Kemo Sabe with my brother Garrett ❤ 

Copyright Autumn R. Anderson: 2011


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