The In-between Season

This time of year in Vermont always gets to me. I tend to find myself feeling depressed and moody. I sleep longer during the night and wake up to see more gray skies with a brown and white landscape. All the green is hiding in the earth, waiting for the snow to wash away.

Winter up here is usually an extended season, and the hardest part of it is the end. It lags on as much as it pleases and throws in a few teasing days where you rejoice thinking it’s finally past. My friends, don’t let that fool you.

When I was young and growing up in southern New Hampshire, my late April birthday brought green grass, tulips, and blossoms. I used to have a tradition of jumping in the sea at hampton beach to celebrate, and my day of birth was always a relief that the new season had come.

Up here in these northern parts I’m lucky if I see green on my birthday. Maybe less than a handful of years I’ve been graced with green in the twenty six years I’ve lived here.

I’ve never lived anywhere longer in my life. When I stop and think about that I’m really amazed by the length of time I’ve been in this wild place. I moved around so many times as a kid I had all but lost the idea of having a true home, and I’ve been in this old farmhouse for almost ten years now. I’m always amazed at my way-finding skills.

Over the years I’ve had vermont friends say to me “I never should have moved here.” And boy do I understand what they mean. But my response is always the same. I’d say, “If you weren’t here you wouldn’t be healing in the way you are, you wouldn’t be evolving so fast.”

You see, Vermont is not an appealing place to live for a lot of folks, and the beautification of it in magazines and online will trick you into believing a false reality. Yes, Vermont is incredibly magical in so many ways, but in this place you will have to face yourself in ways that are very uncomfortable, believe me, you will be tested again and again. This wild place will push you to all your inner limits, it’s bites, it whips, it’s bitter cold, yet there isn’t much in the way of connection to the earth here. The consciousness of this place will ask you to fend for yourself, you’ll be isolated at times, feel beaten up in other moments, angry at darkness that lingers in the sky.

I like to think of Vermont (especially the northern parts) as a place that pushes up the shadow work within and she will keep at it until you actually do the work. You’ll feel the push again and she will say. “Are you listening yet?” Every year there are more layers to shed, more inner shadows to work with and understand, and each round we go we deepen our feet in the soil and mud. We become more one with the black as night soil under the sugar maples. We become more free.

One thing I know for sure, growing up here, my kids will always be so strong and capable in the wild earthly elements. Gracefully moving with or standing firmly with the whipping winds. Howling and cackling at the wild energy in the air. Roaming through the woods, talking to the elements and the creatures unseen by the naked eye.