Some live for bold transformations—grand openings, dramatic exits, big life announcements. Not me. I’m more of a “slow fade into the next thing” kind of gal. Like nature here in the Midwest, my life seems to shift in seasons—quietly, subtly, and sometimes without me even noticing until I’m standing knee-deep in snow, wondering what happened to my flip-flops.

I love how our Midwest seasons change slooooowly (yes, with that many o’s). One season melts into the next. Summer doesn’t pack its bags and storm out; it lingers. The days gradually shorten, green leaves blush into the warm golds and reds of autumn, and then flutter to the ground, uncovering winter’s stark branches. In the spring, snowdrops poke through leftover patches of snow in my garden, and redwing blackbirds start shouting from the treetops that summer is just around the corner.