The beauty of the seasons
People sometimes ask me why I chose to live on the Isle of Man. When I tell them that the weather was part of the reason, they usually laugh, and I understand why. The weather here is not always kind. The winters can be long, cold and wet, and there are certainly days when I wonder whether I made a sensible choice. But that is not really what I mean when I say I like the weather here. I like having seasons.
I spent six years living in the south of France, followed by another two years in Spain. I loved living there, the light, the warmth, the long evenings, the outdoor life. But after a while I realised I was missing something. I was missing the change.
Here, you notice it happening without having to look for it. A few months ago I could take my dogs out early in the morning in daylight. Now I put a head torch on and walk under the stars. The first time I put a jumper on again, I actually enjoyed it. There is something rather nice about coming home cold and finding the fire already going. And then, inevitably, after a few months of that, I will start wishing for spring. I will want the T shirt back, the longer mornings, the lighter evenings and the warmth of the sun.
It reminds me a little of sailing. When there is hardly any wind, I want more. When there is too much, I want less. Perhaps I am simply never entirely satisfied with the conditions I have. But I think there is something more to the seasons than that.
What I like most about spring and autumn is that something is happening. Autumn is not just summer becoming colder. You can watch nature change. The leaves turn and fall, the trees let go of what they no longer need, the storms arrive, the days become shorter, and the landscape begins to prepare for a pause. Then spring does the opposite. The first buds appear, the birds start singing again, the mornings become lighter, and things that seemed to have stopped suddenly begin moving again. Nothing has been forced. Nature simply knows when it is time to slow down, and when it is time to start again. I find that beautiful.
Perhaps that is why spring and autumn have always been my favourite seasons. Summer is here. Winter is here. But spring is becoming, and autumn is letting go. Those are things I recognise.
Living in France and Spain, I had plenty of beautiful days, but the transitions were less obvious. Here, I notice them everywhere, and not only outside. In summer a weekend dinner is often something light, a salad, maybe a cold beer or a tonic in the garden while the evening light is still holding. By the time autumn settles in, that same weekend dinner has become something heavier, a casserole instead of a salad, and the beer has been replaced by a glass of red wine by the fireplace, without me ever really deciding it. The seasons make you pay attention, whether you mean to or not.
And perhaps that is what I really meant when I said I chose the Isle of Man for the weather. Not because I wanted better weather. Because I wanted weather that changes. I like the fact that the landscape gets a chance to pause. I like watching something come to an end without seeing it as a failure. And I like watching something begin again without needing to know exactly what it will become.
Nothing stays the same, and it does not need to.
