I love the seasons in Maine for their renewing effect, and the opportunity to see such growth. Not just in plants each spring and summer, but in ourselves (and these children!) as well. The cyclical nature of the seasons allows for such contemplation of how we've grown and changed from year to year, as well as being a source of hope for what we know must come again, and another chance to do it even better. I've never lived outside of New England so I can't say first hand, but I have a feeling that life without seasons could feel stagnant.
Now too I'm beginning to notice cycles in my children's development and likewise find hope and relief in these patterns. It's taken me nearly 8 years to realize the natural cycle of my first born-- the difficult half year point slowly, painfully, escalating and finally tapering as spring arrives into a lovely, cooperative whole year child for the summer and fall. What a relief to see that no, I wasn't doing it all wrong, here we are rolling along smoothly again.
His sister is thankfully a few months off of his cycle, testing her limits and sass as she approaches her birthday each summer, quietly weathering the storm of her brother's moods throughout the colder months.
And Kale too, once upon a time my best sleeper, has thankfully, after months of short unpredictable naps and wakeful nights, cycled back to long, sound naps and (cue cheers) almost uninterrupted nights.
No doubt, now that I think I've got it all figured out something will shift.
But just as summer has finally arrived in a fit of 90 degree days and afternoon thunderstorms, so too will those periods of difficulty melt into a sunnier disposition, and after a time these carefree days will turn their corner toward more trying ones.
Over and over again, for better or worse, this too shall pass--until next time.