The Weight of the Seasons

I spent this morning trying to clear out my closet, pulling out sweaters I haven’t touched since last year. It is strange how we hold onto things, waiting for the exact right temperature to justify their return. I found a scarf I bought on a whim during a trip that felt like a lifetime ago, and for a moment, I was back in that crisp, biting air, feeling the shift in the world before it actually happened. We spend so much of our lives bracing for change, watching the edges of things turn brittle or gold, trying to predict when the warmth will finally leave us. But there is a specific kind of grace in the transition itself—that middle ground where the old world hasn’t quite let go and the new one is just beginning to assert its presence. It is a quiet, steady kind of endurance. Do you ever find yourself lingering in those moments of change, or are you always rushing toward the next season?

Sergiy Kadulin has captured this feeling perfectly in his image titled Autumn in Utah. It reminds me that even the most rugged landscapes have a way of softening when the time is right. Does this view make you feel like you are standing on the edge of something new?