The Stages of Fall: Transition Into Winter
I've noticed the stages of dealing with the autumn mimic the stages of Transition here in Maine.
First, we work through our denial. It isn't just the people, the plants are just as busy trying to outgrow each other. Winter won't come our way if we don't look at it.
With the first early winter snow this year before Halloween, we have moved into the anger stage. Racks of shovels adorn every store. The armamentary of snowblowers and snow melters and heaters line our sidewalks. We will battle snow with every ounce of our will.
But already we've moved into the bargaining stage. We're trying to limit the damage. I've already said, "no more than twelve feet this year." As if somehow I could bargain with the winter winds. Will six inches really make a difference to my year?
And I've seen in my patients the depression beginning. They talk about the cold winter months and getting out of Maine for the season. Many will, but those that do will be gone by November. The rest of us will hunker down for the season. Days will shorten to mere slivers, and the long, windy nights will swallow up the sun.
Even as I write, I feel the creeping of acceptance. It is a relief to let go of having to be everywhere on time. Whole days can just come crunching to a halt. Plans will be remade, or cast aside. And the sun will come again.
Here's a link to Kubler-Ross' stages of grief.
I've noticed the stages of dealing with the autumn mimic the stages of Transition here in Maine.
First, we work through our denial. It isn't just the people, the plants are just as busy trying to outgrow each other. Winter won't come our way if we don't look at it.
With the first early winter snow this year before Halloween, we have moved into the anger stage. Racks of shovels adorn every store. The armamentary of snowblowers and snow melters and heaters line our sidewalks. We will battle snow with every ounce of our will.
But already we've moved into the bargaining stage. We're trying to limit the damage. I've already said, "no more than twelve feet this year." As if somehow I could bargain with the winter winds. Will six inches really make a difference to my year?
And I've seen in my patients the depression beginning. They talk about the cold winter months and getting out of Maine for the season. Many will, but those that do will be gone by November. The rest of us will hunker down for the season. Days will shorten to mere slivers, and the long, windy nights will swallow up the sun.
Even as I write, I feel the creeping of acceptance. It is a relief to let go of having to be everywhere on time. Whole days can just come crunching to a halt. Plans will be remade, or cast aside. And the sun will come again.
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