Fickle Season Person is Back!

Fickle Season Person has reappeared! How could I have said that fall, then winter, were my favorite seasons when everyone knows nothing can beat spring. Had I lost my mind?

Every hour I see more changes outside: another new leaf pops up on the oak leaf hydrangea, a new daffodil unfurls her yellow petals, the dogwood blossoms increase in size, and the gold finches seem to become more brilliant. (I took this picture through my bedroom window this morning.) On the lake, ducks swim in close twos as they profess their undying love to each other; soon new babies will trail along behind them.

Fishermen, their rods secured in holders, cruise slowly as they watch for schools of fish on their fish finders. My Dad was a great fisherman. Even if present-day technical equipment had been available when he fished the North Carolina creeks and rivers, I doubt he would have used them. Dad could eye the shoreline, drop his lure exactly where he wanted it on his first cast, and usually hook a bass. For years his favorite motor was a 3.3 Evinrude that would crank on the first pull. Whenever I'd take the wooden skiff out by myself to explore, he'd put that little 3.3 on my boat. He knew it wouldn't fail me.

A January Morning

This picture was taken this morning. A few blog posts ago, I declared that fall was my favorite season. I think not. Winter now rates as number one. Call me an old F.S.P.—a Fickle Season Person. I love winter and all that comes with it: celebrating the true meaning of Christmas and enjoying time with family and friends; a brand new year filling me with great expectations of things to come; watching the sunbeams dance on the water on a cold winter day; dull brown leaves hiding nature’s secrets that will surprise me in the spring; trees, naked without their leaves, providing a better view of the mountain across the cove; cardinals, blue jays, finches and other fowl flocking to the feeders and competing with the squirrels for sustenance. Because of the damage the raccoons and possums do to the feeders, every night we bring the feeders inside, then put them back out early each morning.

Glorious Fall

I couldn't resist snapping this photo from my deck this morning. Leaves are falling rapidly--some trees are nearly bare--and I want to capture as many glorious fall days as possible. At this time each year, I'm positive fall is my favorite season. I love the golds, reds, burgundys, greens, and even browns. I love the crunch underfoot when my dog Angus and I take our daily morning walk. On those walks we sometimes spook wild turkeys crossing our little road. Deer stand watchful as they see us coming, then bound quietly (how do they do that?) into the woods. Soon winter will come, opening vistas not easily visible the rest of the year when the leaves cling tightly to the trees.

You know what? Today I've said that fall is my favorite season. But when winter arrives with her snow and ice, I'm sure I'll say winter is my favorite season. And at that time, it will be. And I'll take some pictures to share with you.