Stopping by the woods on a sunny afternoon

We enjoyed a tramp though our woods on a sunny afternoon last weekend and felt lucky for that soul-cleansing experience.

Three-season woods like the one we found Sunday offer fascinating contrasts.

Winter winked at us from the west, spring beckoned from the ground and that flirty summer crooked its fun little finger our way from the east.

The river shook free of ice and babbled as we walked past, “Come! Dip your toes in! Summer’s just a whisper away!”

I fought the urge to strip off my shoes and wade in. And then, I conceded, sat on the bank, peeled off my socks and stuck my feet in.

“Soon!” I said. “We’ll be floating down you soon!”

It may have been too cold for such shenanigans, but my feet became numb almost as soon as I dunked them, so they didn’t mind.

I know the fickle, fleeting nature of seasons around here. We get excited for spring and find ourselves shoveling giant mounds of snow. We anticipate fall and have to yank off our jackets and roll up our sleeves in an October swelter.

So, I’m not storing away my galoshes.

But, man oh man, did it feel good to wriggle my toes in that water, to see blades of grass shooting up from the ground and the slightest, babiest buds poke out from the trees.

Robert Frost’s lines occurred to me on our three-season tramp, so I adjusted them slightly for the occasion.

Stopping by the woods on a sunny afternoon

The woods are a lovely, fickle thing

midst winter’s dance with early spring. 

But seasons can be humbling.

Our seasons can be humbling.