Seasons

 October 4, 2020

“While the earth remains, 

Seedtime and harvest, 

Cold and heat, 

Winter and summer, 

And day and night 

Shall not cease.” —Genesis 8:22 

One of the oldest promises in the Bible, this assurance of the continuity of the seasons is the foundation for life on earth. There are certainly times of drought, of blizzard and flood, time when planting and reaping hang by a thread, but without the assurance of this regularity, there would be no sense in sowing, no hope of harvest, and only the spectre of death and destruction. 

In 1972, spring was cold and rainy. Linda and I planted our garden in May only to have it wash away in an unusually heavy rain. We planted again the beginning of June, just before the remnants of hurricane Agnes brought flooding to the Southern Tier of New York. Our garden ended up somewhere down the Ohio River. Elsewhere however, the cycle of the seasons produced crops that continued to feed us. 

We are fortunate to live in a part of the country where we can enjoy the changing of the seasons. I love visiting Cuba in February, but if I lived there permanently, I would miss the beauty of our white winters. The endless hues of springtime green reflected in the grass, the willows, maples, locust, and ash are a delight to the eye, while the hazy mirages of summer’s heat dance on the pavement as we drive. Crispy snow crunching beneath our feet as we fill the bird feeders for Linda’s cardinals, finches, and chickadees fill the ears while the sparkle of the snow delights the eye and the aroma of the fire burning in the stove fills the nostrils. 

Almost overnight, the trees have donned garments of red, orange, and yellow against the dark green of the firs and spruces, and the leaves have covered the lawn’s green with a brown carpet. The fragrance of the honey emanating from my beehives combines with the apples in the garden shed, telling the same story of an abundance many never see. Hopefully, this week I’ll be able to begin processing the grapes ripening on the vines and ready for harvest, and next week, we’ll begin pressing cider. The butternut and Hubbard squash are laid up, the wood is split and stacked. We are ready for winter.

This afternoon I saw another sign of the season as son Nathan and neighbor Bob helped lift 14 sheets of drywall up on the roof and through the window to son Matthew’s house before installing a new window in Madeline’s bedroom. The finish line is still a ways off, but I can see it; she will soon be sleeping in a remodeled bedroom thanks to young men working together once more. Time and time again, they’ve come to the aid of each other, living out the promise of Christian fellowship and service. Like the promise of the seasons, they can depend on one another, and this often chaotic and uncertain life is given a bit more order and certainty.