Changing Of The Seasons
Repost from last October.
I enjoy the changing of the seasons. If I had to pick my favorite one it would have to be Fall.
The cooling of the air seems to refresh not only my body but my brain as well. It’s more than just the relief to have made it through another summer, but more a sense of accomplishment for having done so.
When I smell the first burning of wood coming from distant fireplaces at the beginning of the fall season, it takes me back to a time and place when I was young…
One of the first Falls of my life, when I first recall that sense of accomplishment mixed with the smell of burning logs in the Fall air, was after football practice.
Summer was over. No more two-a-day football practices. I enjoyed walking home from practice taking in the cooling air while walking barefoot. The concrete actually felt good on my feet. No more sprinting from shade spot to shade spot when I was dumb enough to leave the house with no shoes on.
There hasn’t been a Fall of my life, when the air starts to change and I smell distant fireplaces burning, I don’t think of that Fall so many seasons past.
I fast forward some years and recall the smell of burning wood at the end of a work day. I still remember the gratification of having worked hard with my hands, and looked back at what I accomplished in a day. Surrounded by perfect air temperature, I actually felt bad for the people who didn’t get to experience what I was in my life.
Each changing season brings about new challenges. With each test or challenge, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I can’t say I come out on top every time, but that is my goal. Regardless of the outcome I’m filled with a sense of accomplishment for having stayed in the challenge, for not giving up, even when sometimes I wanted to.
I flip the fast forward switch in my mind yet again. This time I leave the button pressed a little longer to take me to a specific part of my history.
I land a couple decades further into the story. This remembrance of Fall lands me in a Lacrosse field. I remember the smell and feel of “my season.”
I recall stopping the practice for a few moments to have the girls look at the skyline, noting it’s progression north on the horizon. I asked them to take note of the smell of the air. The moist grass, the dampness in the air, and, in particular, the smell from distant wood burning fireplaces.
I encouraged them to remember the moment, the smell and the sense of accomplishment. I asked them to recall this time during the future seasons of their lives. I reminded them how special and fleeting each season is.
It was magical, just the sound of hard breathing from wind sprints, mixed with the inhaling of the smell of life. This is when the scent becomes more than a smell. The scent mixed with the hard work coupled by the gratification becomes a state of being that we can always travel back in time to visit.
The hard work that brings a sense of accomplishment mixed with the scent in the air becomes the trigger we engage to ride our minds back in time.
This year will be a different Fall season for me. As the seasons change, so do our lives. I will not be coaching Lacrosse this year. I’ll miss the smell of the grass, mixed with the smell of chewed up earth from cleats, and the aroma of wood burning in the distance.
Mostly I’ll miss the girls and the sense of gratification and accomplishment gained by having an impact on their lives.
This year when I smell my favorite Fall scent, I’ll remember the ones past. I’ll cherish the years and the paths that have brought me to this fork in the road.
I’ll choose the path less traveled. If I have too, I’ll blaze my own trail.
When I stop at dusk and breath in the Fall air bursting with the scent of burning wood, I’ll remember the good old days, and look forward to this day becoming one of them…
Shared at http://peterpollock.com/2011/10/season-blog-carnival/



Thursday, October 7, 2010 @ 6:31 am
True story: last month. 4 year old, after weeks of falling from trying to learn to ride his bike finally succeeds and takes off riding. He jumps off his bike runs to my cousin, his mom, and yells at the top of his lungs with a voice full of accomplishment, joy and excitement, ” Mom, I conquered ANOTHER fear.”
Thursday, October 7, 2010 @ 6:49 am
That’s a great story, next on his list…The world!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010 @ 4:13 pm
Oh Floyd… the smell of that grass will never be forgotten…..the hard work, sweat, pain and tears… of when we were sisters in arms during that immaculate season
<3
Tuesday, October 12, 2010 @ 7:36 pm
great to hear from you girl! yes, it was magical
Monday, October 18, 2010 @ 7:58 pm
Floyd, this is the thing I was talking about that I wrote freshman year in college when i knew I wasnt able to play anymore
The smell rushes up through your nose and within seconds memories, pictures, and laughter invade your heart. The texture of the rough green grass on your skin is so irritating and itchy but in a way you like it because that is all you know. The lights are turning on, beaming down and blinding you as you scope the field. Taking a step back from this surreal moment, you lay down and soak up these beautiful smells and images. The grass is covered with beads of dew, the amount of bugs are beginning to increase and at the end of the field, the orange pipes catch your eye. You cant help but smile as chills rush up and down your spine because this feeling is indescribable. The white mesh wrapped around the orange pipes makes you feel so comfortable, makes you feel at home. You could lay there for hours remembering how you got to where you are on this field. The way everything looks and smells is picture perfect, you wish you could spend every night under the lights with your stick in hand and sweat falling down your face, but the lights are slowly dimming and dark is falling. It is time, and I must leave everything on that field but take the memories along.
Monday, October 18, 2010 @ 10:22 pm
To play like a child with the mind and body of an adult is a blessing. The memories we earned can’t be taken away and I know you cherish yours as well as I do mine. Your words are an inspiration.