......A Story Of Time........

In our house we have constant visitors,
they come and go and when one leaves another
comes to stay.

 

 

 

Grandfather Winter arrives, shabbily attired,
with not an ounce of fat on his bent frame
he shuffles in.
Clutching his violin and sad
mournful stories to his chest which he will play
out night after night.
He does not come alone as he always brings his
awful sisters, January and February along.
They too are whippet thin with a mean
countenance to them.
They have an air of dissatisfaction about them.
They bring their gifts of melancholy
and discontentment along with them
every time they visit.
Much in the way other visitors might
bring an obligatory box of biscuits along to
thank for hospitality.
Nothing is quite right with them.
They cry and bemoan their disquiet quite
regularly much to our vexation.
We are usually quite relieved at
their departure.
January is the most harshest with her words
and joyless soul.
February though does have a soft spot for true love
and romance and comes ladened with chocolate
in heart shaped boxes and trashy novels about Love.
I think she mourns her lost love most
keenly.
Which would explain her sour spirit somewhat.
But Grandfather Winter
with his haunting grey eyes,
will settle you down by a roaring fire
and will tell you stories of hardship and loss
and of determination and grace through adversity.
He plays his sad songs on his violin.
Shows us beauty of the snow and frosts
the bare trees and barren landscape,
with a trembling bony finger he points to all
there is to discover in the world of winter.
He makes you almost sorry to say good bye to him.
But not his sisters for sure.

Once Grandfather winter and his sisters
take their leave of us
along comes Aunt Spring.
Always bedecked in pastel finery,
with her Easter games and chocolate eggs,
she really is a sight for sore eyes.
With her 3 daughters in tow
March,April and of course sweet May.
Aunt Spring is like a breath of fresh air in
our midst.
We open windows and doors
at her  gentle suggestion and
we marvel at the mellow warm sunshine
she seems to bring us.
A keen gardener and lover of all nature
she brings us out of our hibernation and
gets us back out doors again.
Smiling benignly she points to all the
new shoots and regrowth,
revelling in the earths re-birth.
Her cheeky little daughters run riot
with March and April whipping round
like very small tornadoes at times.
Showering us with apple blossom and giggles.
With many bumps, hiccups and tears they
tend to wend their way back to a more milder temperament.
Sweet May though is generally more calm and placid.
Warming us through with her warm sweet smiles.
it is with such regret that we wave them all goodbye
for another year.

My sister Summer sashays in,
a hippy love child at heart she is slow and
sensual.
She covers her hair in flowers and has
always refused to wear shoes.
Her three daughters June,July and August are much
the same as her.
Though they vary only slightly in
temperament and intensity they do
so adore hot sunny days.
They take us on picnics and barbeque's,
they tell us to just stop and smell the roses
that we have been busy tending.
To linger and to be free amongst nature.
Slip off our shoes and feel the hot soil
beneath our toes.
We dream of blue azure seas when they are around
and of sand castles and ice cream.
To find the joy and romance of
a sudden summer's storm that aunt
will sunddenly insist on,
to not run for shelter but instead to open our
arms to the skies and to dance in the sweet
life giving rain instead.
To watch the stars on balmy evenings
with glowing tea and fairy lights
strewn and hung through branches of
great trees of deep green.
with the scent of stocks
and roses permeating our memories.
We do have the best time with them,
though their heated desire to have fun
at all times can be a little exhausting.
When we wave goodbye to them we do feel
a little bereft as it always seems so long
to their next visit.

When Great Uncle Autumn descends
with his cloak of burnt umber,
he rides in on a wave of scarlet and
orange leaves that scatter and carpet our
garden with their glorious display of death.
With his hair the colour of the corn in the fields
and his soft sun worn features,
his arrival always instills in me a sense of peace.
His boys September, October and November
set up camp in our living room mainly.
With their excitable talk of chilled cheeks, long walks,
and fireside company.
September, reminds us of Summers child August in the main,
but he is of a more mellow manner and differs
in that he bustles this way and that always busy.
Getting ready for the harvests and winter to come.
But we do have fun with him and enjoy the last
warm days toiling side by side in fields or garden
or finding shade underneath
a tree with a good book.
October loves to tell a story,
and in the advancing twilight that comes earlier now,
there he is encouraging us to dig
out all the old blankets from their hiding places.
For us to build dens in the front room whilst
he tells us spooky stories by candlelight.
He has a thing for the colour orange
and pumpkins apparently.
November is different entirely
more sullen than his brothers
and constantly reminds us of
Grandfather Winters return.
He puffs about muttering
under breath of first frosts and hard ground.
we take to wearing hats and coats again,
and we are quietly wishing for Aunt Springs return.

The last visitor of the year really should
come along with Grandfather Winter and his sisters.
But cousin December dislikes January and February
as much as anyone.
In fact they all squabble when together.
As much as January and February are whippet thin and
disproving of fun.
Cousin December is rotund and loud
and lives for frivolity.
With a puff of white hair and a love of
noisy to look at jumpers.
He is always up for a laugh and joke.
With deep baritone voice he sings songs of joy.
He is generous with his gifts and loves a good feast.
He is a bit partial mind to a drop of the hard stuff though!
Despite his appearance of simplicity and over indulgence,
he wisely gifts us with time.
Time to spend with each other and to reflect on
what this years visits have given to us.
What we might be willing to give back in
the coming new year of visits.
A time to pause in
life's ever moving motion and
to strive for better.
When December goes he seems diminished
somehow quieter.
His sparkle not quite so bright.
it is always with great sadness.
When we wave him goodbye.
We miss the glitz, sparkle and  childlike magic
that he instills in us.
But he rallies enough to
jovially assure us that he will
return again.

Time comes full circle
Grandfather Winter arrives again
with his sisters in tow.
And once again we will dance the dance of time.
With snow in our hair,
clutching autumn's leaves in our hands
and the bright flowers of spring and summer
scattered about our feet.
Learning with each visit to enjoy the cycle of life.
For if indeed nature is our Mother then surely all the
seasons must too be our family that periodically visits us.



P x