Zwischensaison

I think of this word, Zwischensaison, every year about this time.  It is the "between seasons"-time.  A time when there is not really enough snow to go skiing, but enough snow to make the trail running a bit more challenging.  It is a time when the dogs come home from a run covered in mud.  When I have to shower them off in the bathtub, because the spigot outside has been turned off for the winter.  It is a time when I hope that I will get the leaves raked and the bushes trimmed before the next snow squall comes through.  It's a time when one day it could be raining, overnight it could have snowed, and then two days later the brilliant sunshine is lighting up the world, turning the trails decked with new-fallen snow to greasy mud.

But the Zwischensaison is also a time that I like to reflect on what the summer held and at the same time look forward to what the winter will hold.  The summer was good to me, and it seemed quite short for all of the places that I went and people that I got to see.  The fall seemed almost nonexistent and was over almost as fast as it started.  Just when the leaves turned to orange and gold it seemed that the next day those same leaves were on the ground and covered with snow.

I also think of all of the places that I wanted to go in the mountains, but never got a chance to.  I will have to dream of those places, sleeping under feet and feet of white snow, their downy blanket keeping them tucked-in for the winter so that I can dream about them, all cozy and protected, until I visit them next year after their snow-blanket melts.

During this season between seasons, I look forward to what adventures and surprises the winter will hold.  I think of waking up cozy under thick, warm blankets and peeking out the window to a fairy-land covered in white sparkles:  how I feel like a little kid on Christmas morning, each time I wake up to feet and feet of beautiful snow.  I get my ski gear out and sort through, looking at my toys from last year that had to be stowed away all summer, just waiting for the season to change.  I lay out all of my wool hats and wonder how on earth I have accumulated so many.  Some of them I will give away to new homes, and hope that other people will have great adventures with them just as I have.

The Zwischensaison is a time of dreams and a time of excited anticipation.  Jeden Tag ein neues Abenteuer.