Earlier this year, I lamented the prospect of middle age. The idea that with many of my life goals met, the next years would be waiting and waiting on retirement, stuck in a rut of nothing to do and nowhere to go.

And then, it became fall again. And I love fall.

I love unpacking my sweaters, wearing my sweaters. Waking up in the morning and going onto the porch with a hot cup of coffee in hand to defend against the morning chill. Seeing the steam rise next to my exhalations. The leaves changing to red, orange and yellow hues. Being able to enjoy being outside. Boots. Blankets. Big fluffy socks. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Spice. Chai. Halloween decorations. Witchy things. I love all of it.

Winter has similar rituals. Spring its own fanfare. The only thing I really like about summer is finding a nice cold mountain stream to shock my sweaty which I feel doesn’t quite count -the only thing I like about the hot season is to be freezing?

My newfound appreciation of the seasons led me to think, perhaps it is not such a bad thing to live in a repetitive cycle.

Earlier this year, I read Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer of Blood and Spicebush School of Old Craft (they were quite devastated by Hurricane Helene, so please go show them some love). A wide instruction on herbal medicine and folklore, Beyer also provides a details on the “Wheel of the Year”. While associated with modern witchcraft, the wheel of the year hearkens its pagan origins with the holidays corresponding to the solstices, equinoxes, and harvest seasons. Every year the wheel turns, repeating its cycle over and over again.

As we humans still do.

Even with the modern interferences we’ve contrived, every year the sunlight waxes and wanes, the crops grow and die. We live through the changes again and again as we have since we stopped being nomads.

What’s so bad about the thought of living through my favorite things again and again?

My running theory for how long it’s taken me to come about this revelation is that I haven’t done enough to celebrate the changes. Haven’t demarcated the lines between seasons with rituals to appreciate them the way I should. Caught in the wheel, I haven’t stopped to appreciate its progress through the cycle.

So I will do better. To appreciate my sweaters, apples, flowers, lavender, wind, rain and crisp mountain streams as the seasons turn away again and again.