Seasons make me feel alive. I follow their dynamic. Sometimes I want to paint a sunset in the fall, a cherry blossom swirl in the spring wind, moments of lightness, of impermanence. Other times I become obsessed with a colour. It nudges me until I pay attention. The colour itself is often just a lead into something else. At the minimum, it brings perception and focus.

Last Fall

I picked up oranges and kumquats  
Pumpkins and silks in tiger tie-dye
I dressed in blue as to attract 
The orange of the sunset sky

As I amassed  the marigolds 
An orange leaf just by me passed 
And landing swiftly on the ground 
Perfumed the air with orange dust 

I feared orange scarcity 
Deprived of warmth, the skies so dark 
And walked along the river Thames 
Looking for signs of orange spark 

And then, I thought about the monarchs 
Carrying the orange on their wing 
Migrating south in wintertime
Bringing back orange every spring.

Last fall when I wrote this poem I wasn’t aware of monarch butterflies being an endangered species. And then someone recommended Flight Behaviour by Barbara Kingsolver. I kept following the orange lead. 

Without butterflies there are no seasons. Without seasons there are no colours. Without colours, everything could look like a graveyard. 

A few years ago I was obsessed with the colour purple which lead to me to planting a bunch of lavender in the garden and welcoming a colony of bees. We’ve been living happily ever after – the lavender, the bees and our family watching this small, buzzy and colourful ecosystem grow. I call it abundance. 

Back to orange, I’ve been researching some facts about the monarch butterflies and what helps them thrive. Milkweeds. I am sharing a link here in case someone else loves the seasons. Or orange. Or monarch butterflies. They are all connected. We are all connected. We just need to look a bit closer.