Home Invasion

Night after night I hear little feet dancing on my ceiling. Scurrying here and there- trying to find a warm, sheltered place to sleep away winter. Funny, how I love wildlife until they decide to move in. Well, I guess I still love them, but wish their burrows throughout the yard and garden had been good enough for a long winter’s nap. There were enough holes in our yard this summer to equal those in the woodwind section of New York Philharmonic. Yes, in the past we’ve housed a couple of Carolina wrens in our Christmas tree but now I’m not quite sure who’s calling our attic home.

Just like many of our neighborhood critters, it’s that time of year when the ‘winter slumber’ washes over us – seasonal downtime. The four-thirty shadow seems to say, ‘time to get into your pajamas.’ There’s no need to stay in your day clothes-there’s nowhere you might need to go - just home with a cuppa tea and a good book.

There is no doubt that living through the circle of the seasons tells us something about the rhythm of our own lives, our own time for hibernation -rest, repose, reflection. No more late-night bustle on Main Street-no more vying for a parking space at the beach, no more needing to fit it all in. I know deeply that I would not be able to sustain the ‘it’s sunny and 80 degrees’ feeling year-round. That in itself incurs an outdoor to-do, must do, should do-list. When I put away the sunscreen and my beach bag, things begin to change-I get out the crockpot and start making soup. I welcome the changing leaves, the time indoors, a fire in the fireplace. I surely don’t ascribe to the 365-day rush. Does moving south to warmer climes mean giving up the peaceful nature of winter? Do our circadian rhythms instantly switch into overdrive? Humans too are seasonal creatures.

I don’t necessarily love the gray and cold but I do love the peace of winter and the anticipation of the change of seasons. There before us every few months is something new and wonderful to look forward to, to plan for, to experience- the first snow, buds on the branches, fireflies, orange pumpkins. No seasonal boredom, no ‘oh no, another sunny day’ just a rhythm that keeps us tuned into nature and the wonders around us. We can take ourselves out of the mode of seasonal loathing and lift ourselves into the glory and gratitude for being a part of it all.

Turns out the ceiling pitter patter is most likely a family of adolescent gray squirrels - some of whom we’ve been able to rehome to our backyard - hoping they would be reunited with their mom and their siblings. I’ll still be listening for them and feel a bit of gratitude that I wasn’t born a squirrel -but know, that in the big picture, they too are part of our wildlife family just looking for a warm cozy place to spend winter.

So, here’s to all that lies ahead. Another season at our heels to be a part of-changes that help to keep life fresh and new. May each season find us where we need to be-and to quote Frederick, one of my favorite children’s book characters, “Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four?
Think of a year with one less … or one more!”