Tuesday, July 07, 2009
The forest around me is already beginning to take on the look of mid-summer. That surprises me a little. For one thing, the season is only two weeks old. For another, this region has not yet had a 90-degree day this year (Note: I am not complaining about this at all. I’m just mentioning it because it’s highly unusual). So I wouldn’t have expected the woods to be taking on that vaguely dull shade of green, nor for the wild grains at the forest edges to have ripened to shades of brown just yet. But both those things are happening.
The forest has entered the time of year where growth and change slows down dramatically. It’s not really a static time—no time is in the natural world—but it feels pretty close to that. After the blinding speed of spring’s explosion, any slowdown is going to feel very slow, much slower than it actually is.
In any event, that point of slowdown, both the perception of it and the reality, is here. Ideally, I should be a little like the forest and slow down myself. In spring, a morning of not paying attention or a day lost to rain can mean I might not see something for another full year. Not now. Whatever it is will still be there tomorrow.
But the habit of running around is hard to break, at least for me. Sitting still? What’s that? Sometimes it feels as though sitting still for five minutes means 20 other things won’t get done. Eventually, usually, I am able to down shift my gears, occasionally. Hasn’t happened yet. I’m still working on it. Maybe a 90-degree day would help.