[Seasons: Winter XV]
Compared to some harsh winters around the world, the PNW is mild. Winter never fully arrives, it seems. It’s more like seasonal hopscotch, touching down for a bit, lifting, and touch down again in a slightly different way. The front half of winter feels like an autumn-winter mix; the latter half of winter is a similar spring-winter mix.
I lived in Idaho for a time; the winter-spring mix was known as "winter breakup". Spring hasn’t taken hold, but winter is growing weaker. The snow is slushy, the piles of plowed snow accumulation begin to shrink, and the roads are muddy. Not winter. Not Spring. An unbecoming liminal season somewhere between the two.
We think life is supposed to be distinctly in one season or another, but most of it happens in the liminal between—it’s never cleanly one “way” or the other. It’s always a mix between there and here, that season and the one unfolding. It’s alway winter breakup; sort of like the PNW.
It’ll serve us well to begin embracing the liminal nature of seasons in our life.
