Spring runoff from the mountains produces powerful waterfalls on the Spokane River. It is one of the markers of the transition from winter. I went downtown to watch this awesome sight and to try to make photographs of the swallows that glide just above the falls. It is a juxtaposition of awesome power of enormous size and awesome grace in a diminutive physique. In this scene I become aware of my own strength and fragility. Nature always has the last word.
The same day I made these images I read an interesting article about how there is a Japanese tradition of celebrating 72 kō or micro-season that mark annual natural phenomena. Each kō last five days and is celebrated with seasonal rituals, foods, flowers, and festivals.
The article got me thinking about the ways I note the passage of time each year. In January I watch for ice on Priest lake. In February I count on seeing the first Robins return to eat the mountain ash berries. My wife and I note when the bluebirds and goldfinches return to our back yard in April. I watch the river rise and mark the spring runoff flooding of the Spokane River and the falls. In May I note the blooming of lilacs and the return of Copper River salmon as a epicurian treat only found in the Northwest.
By June I am anticipating Rainier Cherries being sold at roadside stands along highway 2 and the opening of the North Cascades highway. I also note major holidays, anniversaries(both happy and sad) and birthdays and deaths.
Most everyone notes the change of the for major seasons at the time of the equinoxes and solstices. I am still in awe at the accuracy of the builders of Stonehenge.
I suppose city residents miss out on some of the natural phenomena. The business world pays attention to numbers and quarters of the year. Charting daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, and yearly trends. We all find ways to divide a year into personal meaning even if it is only to mark the date of our next paycheck or our next bill payment due. These days I mark my days by tracking the prescriptions I must take morning and night.
Farmers know the seasons well too. They pay close attention to things like rainfall and the winter wheat, first cutting of hay, and harvest moons. Our education system is still based upon an agrarian lifestyle gave summers off so children could help on the family farm. Gardeners too. My wife and I even created a chart for noting when to start our seeds and when to plant them and where.
Having recently become more serious about fly fishing I am now tracking the hatches of caddis, mayfly, and salmon flies. Actually there are so many bugs to take note of. I have really grown to appreciate the way heightened awareness of nature elevates my gratitude and happiness.
Since taking up sailing I am keenly aware of the rise and fall of the moon, tides, and currents. I am still new so I have not yet mastered the seasons of wind speed and direction but I am sure that will come. For now I mark the end of my teaching year by scheduling our annual San Juan Island sailing trip the week after commencement.
Astronomers note the changing seasons with the Eclipses, Meteor Showers, and the movement of constellations across the horizon. They can tell us the exact moment one season ends and a new one begins.
One of my favorite celebrations of the seasons is the Persian New Year known as Nowruz. The roots of Nowruz come from the religous faith of Zoroastrianism. It happens on the Spring Equinox in involves wonderful food and dancing. One of my best childhood friends came to Spokane from Iran and his entire extended family and network of friends gather for this annual festival. From my Persian friends I have learned to keep a bowl of fruit and a cup of Earl Grey tea at the ready for anytime a friend comes to call. The bright color of an orange warms the heart and can be split into pieces that share love and kindness.
As a member of a Christian liturgical church we are reminded of annual seasons by the marking of holy days and weeks. To me it is almost as if the year really begins at the end of November with the start of Advent. It continues through Christmas, Epiphany, the Time after Ephiphany, Lent, The Triduum, and Easter.
Catholic monks and priests often mark the division of individual days through a prayer practice known liturgy of the hours or the Divine Office.
Each day is divided in prayer:
Matins or Vigil (nighttime)
Lauds (early morning)
Prime (first hour of daylight)
Terce (third hour)
Sext (noon)
Nones (ninth hour)
Vespers (sunset evening)
Compline (end of the day)
Part of marking the liturgical calendar is noting the hymns that are sung at different times of the year. In Advent I am thinking of The Holly and the Ivy. During advent my church holds a weekly compline service. They are meditative and restorative through the solemn chanting of psalms in a candle lit sanctuary and nave. It reminds me of attending a mass at Notre Dame in Paris during a winter long ago. The Gregorian and Polyphonic chants moved me deeply.
Advent is a season of darkness that is illuminated with candle and fires. During the late service and Christmas Eve we sing Silent Night while holding up candles and always end with the houselights full blast to a roaring rendition of Joy to the World! By January I am marking winter with the hymn In the Bleak Mid Winter and by Easter I am singing Amazing Grace and Be Thou My Vision.
I typically expect the last snow of the year to happen around my father’s birthday during the first few days of March and I expect the last major rain to occur during 4th of July camping trips. By mid July we anticipate smoke and fire season but if we are lucky I only smell the sweet scent of dirt roads and grass and hear the humming and clicking sounds of crickets and grasshoppers. There is typically two weeks of uncomfortable heat followed by late August when the nights become cool leading into September’s first frost and if we’re lucky an Indian Summer and a canoe trip up the thoroughfare to Upper Priest Lake. The term Indian Summer dates me and is no longer acceptable it seems. Its origins date back to 1778 in Letters of an American Famer by H. St. John de Crèvecoeur. It referenced the time of year when indigenous tribes would deliberately set fires to prairie lands as a land management and hunting practice that is recognized for it’s practical wisdom.
While I don’t think I need to study the 72 Japanese kō to keep track of their seasons. I think I could do a better job of raising my awareness of the progression of a year by actively keeping track of it. While we tend to divide the year into 52 weeks and think about how many vacation days we want off, I think I would be better served to invest more time in studying the stars, joining in festivals, planting a garden, and being more active in nature. Through journaling and photography I can record the subtle changes of the year and make my own version of the kō that connects with where I live and the community I participate in.
