mud season
When the snow melts and the brown of the ground fools you into believing in elapsed time warps. Is it Fall again or simply Winter hanging on for dear life? Will Spring erupt soon or are we destined for unsightly mud for another two months? All of it seems to ring true.
Pasque flower. Image by Radek Homola @radekhomola
In between enduring the weekly April Fools battery of snow, I relished the courageous pasque flowers emerging. Ahhh, Spring in the mountains! How fickle and wily. Despite spending the past two weeks begging for this moment, annoying you with those repeated refrains, and determined not to burden you with yet a third week of boring shoulder season material; here we are. Me still stuck in the mud. (Did I mention how I love a good pun? ;-) While here, I will take advantage of sharing with you my most delicate, fantastical mud season moment.
While working in Driggs, my office buddies and I would take a walk about every day no matter the weather or time of year. Once our project ended and we dispersed into different teams we no longer all came into the office every day. It simply became too difficult to compete with each other during various meetings occurring simultaneously in an open office space. Often, I found myself working alone in the peaceful space and still took myself out for walks as a break from the thoughts swirling in my head about the new setup and transitions.
February and March passed me by without a training plan for my new role or opportunities to build and apply the skills necessary to become proficient in the duties required for success. I began to doubt this path I chose. Doubt the company I was still trying desperately to be loyal to. Doubting myself entirely. One overcast and windy day, probably two years ago exactly from today, I wedged my feet into my rain boots and headed out to circumnavigate the field. When I crossed the road and stood at the edge of the field, however, I discovered no path existed anymore. Simply a field of mud. Ok, and a few green sprouts scattered haphazardly. Without my friends, I couldn’t recall where the path we used might be located.
As I began to forge my own path, the synchronicity dawned on me. Laugher bubbled up in my throat, tears formed in my eyes, and I’ll admit it, I threw a fist in the air at the Universe’s sense of humor. The message that I somehow need this time every year, It doesn’t matter what path you choose because it’s yours for the choosing scrubbed all my previous thoughts away. Here I sit two years later with the reminder clear and necessary again. I, and you too, don’t even have to choose wisely. We are afforded any divergences we wish. They may not be easy and there will be plenty of mistakes (my path didn’t line up with the bridge so there was a little extra meandering to find it), but ultimately the path is ours.
Isn’t that a sweet, quaint sentiment?
Yes, and it’s also true. It’s so lovely to be ourselves and love who we are, even the quirks. I hope you do. I’ve meandered my entire life. Here I am finally attempting to “settle” and expecting it to happen on an unrealistic timeline. Yet, nature reminds me (I imagine the exasperation “Again! Really, LK?” along with a sigh.) everything is cyclical rather than linear. And I s’pose it’s ok if I need this exact reminder every. single. year. that it’s all a part of the process.
There is no straight transition from one season to the next. They overlap and battle and work on their own schedule. Spring being the most volatile. The one promising fresh beginnings. The one people like the least. But speaks to me the loudest. Similar to the pasque flower struggling with the pain of emerging through snow and mud against the winds of change, I (WE!) will get our chance in the sun. I think “emerge” is my word of the year. Haha! Ode to 2025. Here we go! Ok, and a little homework. I dare you to research and read Aesop’s Fable, The North Wind and The Sun.