Changes in Nature
I am often surprised by how much I love to see the changes in nature around me. For someone who finds change in my own life difficult to handle sometimes, I love the cycles of change in nature. Here in Barbados, my favourite change to observe is sunset. There is something about watching the sun sink out of sight and the reds, pinks and oranges that linger hanging in the sky after. (and just to satisfy my sister: yes. I know that the sun doesn’t actually go anywhere…)
I’m the kind of person who will go to all sorts of lengths to watch the sunset. Sometimes I am lucky, and I can get a beautiful view from my patio in the evening (like this one from last night).
Sunset from my patio
Batts Rock Sunset
Sometimes, I will make my way to the nearest beach - and my two favourite spots here at home are Brown’s beach Batts Rock - both in St Michael. If I happen to be in those areas in the evening, I wait around until nature puts on one a wonderful show.
Other memorable sunsets I have had the privilege of witnessing - the Grand Canyon in the USA, and Uluru in Australia. But wherever I am, if I can find my way West, I’ll watch the sunset.
The other change in nature that I love to observe is also filled with oranges and reds - Autumn. While it wasn’t something I observed growing up in Barbados, I loved to see it during the years that I lived in England. The leaves on the trees changing colours before they fall to the ground. My favourite spot to observe the changes was in Westonbirt Arboretum - near where I used to live in Gloucestershire. I would spend an afternoon there every year, walking through the trees and taking photos with my friends.
Autumn colours at Westonbirt Arboretum
It hasn’t escaped me that the changes I love in nature precede the darkness. The cold short days of winter, and the night fall - these changes signify the coming of this period of rest. They are about the end of a chapter. The full stop in a sentence. And ironically - I was never a fan of the darkness that followed. I can remember that even as I watched the leaves change colour, I was also noticing the chill in the air, and my heart was sinking at the thought of winter. My inner island girl dreaded the short days, the bare trees, and the icy cold that I could not escape from no matter how many layers I was wearing.
Winter in Gloucestershire
Despite my knowledge that Spring would come, I struggled with winter. I used to wonder why humans insisted on rushing around during the cold months while all the sensible animals were hibernating. I wondered what it would be like to hide out in a warm spot and sleep for a few months.
And that is how I can also feel about enforced change. Like just locking myself away and emerging a few months later.
And it was during these times that in between the grumpy spells and huddling close to the radiator, that I would remind myself that it is a cycle. That nature is the master of cycles. That the days would eventually get longer, and the rain would fall, and the flowers would bloom. There would be buds on the tree, and the birds would sing again.That if autumn was a full stop, that spring was a new paragraph.
These days, I am more familiar with the daily rhythm as I live here in Barbados. I miss autumn (but I don’t miss winter!) The sunset is a daily reminder of autumn, and the sunrise of Spring.
For me there have been so many endings in this last period of change. I feel as if I am going through my own personal winter right now, and I am sure that some of you out there feel the same way too.
I am writing this post on World Mental Health day (to be published the following day) and so during this period of personal winter for myself and anyone else going through it, I am writing this as a reminder that Spring will come again. Until then, all of our feelings are valid.
I hope that it brings you some ease, as it has brought some to me.
Let’s go easy on ourselves.
I send you big love from a small island