Shedding Season

3/28/22

I had a friend that called Spring "Break Up Season." Nearly synonymous with Sun Dress Day, Break Up Season commences around the same time as the first thaw or that teasing time where the weather reaches the sixties before it plummets back into the 20's and 30's for another month. Break Up Season starts when you first think that hmmm, maybe there's something better out there and finishes up around Sun Dress Day when you have visual confirmation that yes, there is something better out there.

For me, it's not really Break Up Season, it's more like Shedding Season.

Many pet owners know this time of year: Shedding Season may be more reliable than Punxsutawney Phil, with the incessant onslaught of pet fur as a sure sign that Spring is upon us. In our house, it lasts for months and makes going in public without a lint roller embarrassing to borderline unacceptable. From opaque, white tufts to cotton-candy rolls to stratosphere-like whisps clinging to house plants and sock bottoms, there is no shortage of natural fibers from February through May. The most annoying part of Shedding Season for me is not the hair in my food or stuck to my contact lenses but the long, painfully drawn out time it takes for this process to occur. I do not tend to Shedding Season like I do to other aspects of Spring, noticing with delight a Crocus bloom or how the trees bud lime-green overnight. No, instead I greet every re-entry into my home with "where is it all coming from!?" as I fear the shop vac becoming my super-power appendage.

Even my daily walks are distracted as I notice a chunk of fur protruding from the landscape of his coat like the Grand Tetons and I cannot stop myself from bending over to pluck it and release it into the wind. Nevertheless, no matter how much I brush him, how much I pluck these craggy tufts, there is no way to rush this process. I am reminded of the saying, "Nature never hurries yet everything is accomplished" by Lau Tzu.

Like the hairs that haunt me, this new beginning has been a slow thaw and I find myself constantly looking forward to how things will be. I find myself day dreaming of the next season, ready to move on and only appreciating what was once it is well into my rearview. This Shedding Season, I let go of a job that was no longer serving me, let go of the first house I owned, and let go of town I have lived in for almost 10 years. It hasn't happened like the sudden opening of a Daffodil but like the persistent release of a 100-pound-Alaskan-Malamute's Winter coat.

I have wanted to have a farm since I was a little girl. Specifically, I imagined having a horse farm and being an Olympic eventer and equestrian competitor. While the type of farm I want to cultivate has changed, that dream has remained throughout a winding career path. My desire to be enough prevented me from pursuing it for a long time. It can be hard to let things go and we can resent them to the point that it actually helps keep them around. Finca Shibui is a dream made only possible through the act of letting most things go.

A Final Thought

I'll leave you with this ask. If you can, when you are experiencing your Shedding Season, be it editing your resume or pulling a dog hair from between your teeth, find gratitude for that change/perceived loss/dander. Be thankful for the signs of your Spring, whether they are slow thaws or little explosions. When you are brushing your dog for the eleven-millionth time, instead of thinking of how far you have to go and how long it will take, think of how soft his fur feels and admire that pink spot on his nose.

With Gratitude,

Krysia