I was thinking about the seasons a couple of nights ago, mainly because this winter is kicking my ass, but in my contemplations I decided that each season has a different sense that it predominantly effects, at least for me. Taste is not represented, because... well I don't really taste the seasons.
Spring has always been a very visual season for me. The first robin I see tells me it's spring. When I was growing up, even if I hadn't seen a robin, I knew it was spring when the daffodils started to poke through the ground (or snow). Seeing a group of trees for the first time since they started budding with their misty, almost unreal, green quality is pretty much the definition of spring for me. Even at college spring meant pretty sights. There is a certain path on UNL's campus that is canopied with trees that have gorgeous pink blossoms, but they're only there for about a week. Walking west through it in the afternoon would treat you to the sight of the sun's light glowing through the flowers that completely covered the sky.
Summer is completely tactile. The air is heavy; walking out the door gives the sensation of gravity changing. The sun burning your skin, covered in prickly sweat. Being soaked to the bone in a surprise summer thunderstorm. But the most important summer sensation to me is walking barefoot at night on rough sidewalks that still maintain the heat of the day (specifically getting up on my tippy-toes to kiss someone goodnight).
Autumn is all about smell. Nothing smells like the fall. The dry, dead leaves covering the ground, slowly decaying and filling the air with a rich smell, combined with the crisp smell of the cold. I can't really think of anything beyond that. That's autumn to me.
And winter is about sound. I loved going outside at night after a huge snowfall, and feeling like the only person in the world. It's the only time the world is really quiet. The sound of snow crunching beneath your feet can seem deafening when compared to that. Then there is the less friendly sound of the incredibly cruel wind whistling by, but even that can be comforting when you're inside and curled up under blankets.
And, as a special added bonus, I totally forgot to put this song on my holiday soundtrack. I recently realized that Shchedryk sounds way too close to ominous Latin chanting, and constantly makes me visualize Christmas gone HORRIBLY WRONG, so here's a version of Carol of the Bells that (probably) won't drive you insane:
Cancel that. I'll try later. Stupid blogger just did not upload my like 36 kb video in the two hours I gave it to. Maybe I'll leave it running all night in a different post.)
No comments:
Post a Comment