The Rhythm of the Seasons

I’ve often thought that you can’t truly be a poet and live in a place where the climate never changes. To really taste all that life has to offer, I believe you need to experience all four seasons. I’m deeply motivated by the rhythm of the year—I savor every part of it, including the transitions. They bring richness and variety that makes life feel more vivid and full, but also mirrors the ebb and flow of life. Heck, I even wrote a whole album dedicated to this very concept, aptly entitled Seasons!

But recently, I had a bit of an epiphany: there’s something more about the seasons that speaks to me, something deeper than just their beauty or their contrast. I’ve realized that I’m a project-oriented person by nature. Routine doesn’t energize me—in fact, it often stresses me out. The idea of committing to an open-ended activity, with no clear finish line, is overwhelming. Despite many sincere efforts to follow the structured, consistent habits of many I admire, I would inevitably find myself frustrated and burned out.

Eventually, I discovered that I thrive on projects—tasks with a beginning, a middle, and most importantly, an end. Having that end point motivates me. It gives me something to work toward and then release. The completion of one thing becomes permission to begin something new. Once I embraced this about myself, I became infinitely more focused and ambitious.

That’s why, I think, I love the seasons so much. Each one only lasts for a time. There’s a natural start and a natural end, and with each season comes its own set of activities, challenges, and joys—all temporary, all beautifully fleeting.

Take my garden, for example. Over the past two summers, I’ve thrown myself into cultivating my yard on a much larger scale. What drives me isn’t just the joy of gardening itself, but the fact that it’s seasonal. If I lived in a place where I could garden year-round, I doubt I’d have the stamina or enthusiasm to keep it up. But knowing it’s only for a season makes it feel like a celebration. I’ll soon put the garden to sleep and turn my attention to the holiday season ahead, but I’m glad to know it’s something I can look forward to working on again next year.

Likewise, I’m preparing to put my latest book, Camilla the Great, to rest. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project, and it’s been a long, meaningful journey. But part of what kept me going was the knowledge that it would end—that I would finish it. Which means I can close that chapter of my life, both literally and figuratively. And with that completion comes a sense of closure, and the freedom to dream new dreams.

And so it is with every season. As it says in Ecclesiastes 3:

For everything there is a season,
A time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance…

Later in the passage, it continues:

“Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”

There is a beauty in knowing that everything—both in nature and in life—has its time. Projects. Gardens. Books. Even dreams. They come and go, rise and fall, begin and end. And in that rhythm, I find peace, purpose, and renewal. So, here’s to making everything beautiful in its time!