The air is still crisp. Not all the time, though, just sometimes. My mind continues to wonder. I feel restless. Not the bad kind, but the good. I am anxious and excited for what is to come. I have seen it over and over during all my years of living here. However, there is always a lingering feeling of suspense leading up to it. I can not wait for summer.
Here in the countryside, it is always quiet. Autumn presents itself as a beautiful death as the trees begin to tarnish and their leaves fall. It is not long until the winter months unfold, and the snow caresses every twist and turn and the animals are tucked away. Before you know it, the white crust that has fallen upon the earth dissipates. Under it, fresh greenery has hatched and awaits the warmth the sun will bring it.
I sit here in my log cabin. In my eyes, time does not exist. I simply wait for what I long to feel…
This cabin has endured the rotation of the seasons for as long as I can remember. I have lived here for many, many centuries. I have seen the passage of travelers who come and go. Some stay but never for long. They must feel an odd presence in the air. So, they leave. It is always just me alone here for most of the time.
Once spring arrives, I indulge in long strolls through the valley. I am the breeze rustling between leaves or the thud one hears as a small branch descends from a tree and hits the ground. I cannot feel anything, yet I exist. You cannot see me, yet I am here.
Herds of elk pound away at the earth from the sight of a cougar or mountain lion. Foxes and coyotes slither around preying on helpless rodents. Birds master the sky as they hunt for insects and worms. I, however, do not consume anything. I am neither the hunter nor the hunted. I am an observer among it all. I am all elements.
A duration has gone by and the atmosphere has turned thick with heat. Flower buds are shyly nustled in the thicket of grass. Thousands are about to open. I see the setting sun painted ever so graciously in the sky. My soul is smiling.
Spring departs as summer arrives. Tomorrow marks the first full day of summer. I enter inside my log cabin, and I do not come out until sunrise.
—
The next day, she wakes up from what felt like a deep sleep. She has been trapped as a soul for so long. There is a burst of light blazing above upon a rich blue. The clouds are scattered around in perfect formation. Plant life has blossomed and butterflies settle onto petals.
The woman exits her wooden enclosure. Her long, black hair flows in the cooling wind that passes. She once again has sensation as a human being. She can feel the tingling in her spine as sunlight hits her tan skin.
She strolls to the nearby river and places her hand in the calming stream. Her fingertips electrify with energy. Her heartbeat rises as she inhales the raw environment surrounding her.
Strength has been restored to nature. She has been reborn once more.
Her spirit lingers during the cooler months, but she is granted to come to life during the warmest of them all in order to reconnect with her creations. The ecosystems cannot survive without her physical presence for long. Her touch restores energy back into the environment. So, every summer, she comes back to life. Once this season ends, she will abandon her human formation and return as a ghost. This is her life cycle. She is a native of this land. She is the creator of all life, living and nonliving. She is a nurturer. They call her Mother Nature.
