In early fall, one of my small pleasures is to go out on the lake in the early morning right before sunrise to look at the congregation of ducks, geese and swans on a small, newly-emerged island near our shore. They usually scatter when they see or sense me coming near. Once a heron took off into the foggy mist as I approached, and the vision of those grey, graceful wings flapping and disappearing into the foggy shadow floored me to the ground in awe. There was something a little eerie about that whole scene which could be used as a portentous setting for a Stephen King novel.
Right after that brief eerie moment, the sun started lighting up the sky and then proceeded to touch the treetops.
At the Stillwater Scenic Trail, walkers enjoy witnessing the trees turning yellow on the walking trail and many trees around the lake turning red.
In mid-September, the transformation was at its early stages:
Now in almost mid-October, the autumnal transformation is nearly in full swing:
Almost every morning this summer, whenever opening the bedroom window upon waking up, I would look out on the left to Georgiaville lake. Due to the obstruction of the many trees in their thickest summer foliage, I would usually be able to see only a small surface of the lake, but any glimmer of the water reflecting the morning sunlight or even of just ripples under an overcast sky would send me the signal that another day has begun. After my bathroom routine, I would then proceed to go downstairs to look at a bigger portion of the lake surface straight ahead from our small balcony and would soak in the view. Our lake has an almost daily visitor that has never failed to enthrall me: a misty ghost crawling, curling and swirling on the water.
Here is the ghostly mist in action in July:
Here it is again in August:
When J2 started school in late August, we would have to get up at 6am and get him to the bus stop around 6:45am. After dropping off J2, I would get back home to a quiet neighborhood in the cool morning air. I would sit in our little garden to soak in the quietness and enjoy the solitude. Then I would walk down to the lake to just be there by myself.
I have been obsessed with weather news lately. My own experiences living my life and observing the shifting moods of other people according to weather events have led me to believe that human beings’ emotions and behaviors are more fundamentally affected by climatic elements than we are aware of or are willing to admit. I started thinking about how weather phenomena affect our bodies, emotions, psyche and life activities 20 and a half years ago in Missouri, USA, when I went to the hospital to give birth to J1. The nurses there told us of a curious phenomenon being that many women would go into labor during snowstorms. I myself notice that there are usually more ambulances rushing on the street whenever there are inclement weather events such as heatwave, thunderstorm or snowstorm.
I especially noticed weather’s effects on people’s health and emotions while living in Kentucky where summer is hot and humid and winter is usually unpredictable. During summer in Kentucky, the atmosphere always feels heavy due to the oppressive high humidity, and the people themselves would look heavier in their bodies as well as appear to be in a bad mood. The air would feel thick like transparent soup and the community would suffer a health slump. All my health problems leading to anxiety and depression started during summer 2018 during such a collective health decline. The summer mood of people in Kentucky would always correspond with the weather which would usually be stale and stagnant.
Along the same vein of how weather controls human health, emotions and behaviors, earlier this year, as the winter cold gradually gave way to a warmer spring feel in the air, the heavy burden of my marriage crisis started feeling lighter on my heart and mind. As the trees and flowers started coming back to life, D and I both felt that our relational wounds were on the mend.
As the sunshine became stronger and nature resurrected, we started doing what we do best: walking together hand in hand to witness the beauty of nature around us. We walked together on our lake trail to see the pine trees coming back to life and the saplings pushing their ways upwards through the earth. We took longer walks around our neighborhood and area to notice the budding of wildflowers or the flowering of plants in people’s gardens. In this area, spring showed off such exquisite flowers as peonies, rhododendrons, azaleas, irises and some others.
We especially took a delight in noting the budding and flowering in and around our own little garden.
Winter 2025 started joyfully with absolutely no foreboding of the heart-breaking unfolding of events that was to come. D and I had fun browsing through the Stillwater Antique Mall to look for Christmas lights, ornaments and decorations. Our favorite finds were the singing dolls. For our Christmas tree, we had one fresh tree cut down at the Lockwood Christmas tree farm in Greenville near home.
We had a typically cold, stormy and snowy New England winter in January, February and March 2026. As befits the gloomy weather and desolate landscape, my emotional life was bleak and tumultuous. D and I had marriage troubles and I worked so hard to try to work out what went wrong and how to save our family from disintegration. It was for me a winter of despair.
Early spring was still very cold and windy, and my life still felt unsettled as I continued to have health and other problems after both D and I had succeeded in saving our marriage. There were some moments, however, when I felt briefly consoled by the beauty of nature. Some evenings were enlivened by stunning sunsets and the faithful moon.
After a traumatic and exhausting winter and early spring, I became depressed and severely anxious. As per my tradition every time I felt physically exhausted and emotionally helpless, I turned to God and consecrated religious people for help. I went to Portsmouth Abbey in April for a retreat. There, so as to uplift my heart to God, I joined the monks at Lauds, Mass, Midday Prayers, Vespers and Compline. To sooth the wounds in my spirit, I sat on a rock at Narragansett Bay for one whole morning. I also visited the cemetery to cry and lament at Father Paschal’s tomb. I tried to commune with God and nature anytime I could during my short stay at Portsmouth Abbey.
We came to Portsmouth Abbey for Mass after spring has reached its peak in floral glory and has imperceptibly begun its descent. At Portsmouth Abbey School, the students had already left for their summer holiday and we had the campus to ourselves for roaming around and taking photos. One of the most glorious spring flowers is indubitably rhododendron, and in nowhere else had we found more massive bushes of rhododendron than at Portsmouth Abbey.
Now spring is gradually giving way to summer. Here are some images of the early morning sun in late spring. I love waking up early in the morning and go down to the verdant lawn and misty lake to inhale the fresh morning air and feel the early morning sunshine on my skin. One time I even spotted an enormous snap turtle under the small Japanese maple tree in the front lawn of our townhouse complex. I saw me watching and started retreating back to the lake. I excitedly followed it down the stairs and even made a video of it going into the lake.
