The seasons of life

Ours, and the natural world's

It’s hard to know how to start this post. Because I have a sad story to tell you.

This story is about two friends of mine who have suffered heartbreak. Two good men who lost the love of their lives—both of them within the last week.

But I can promise you something uplifting, as well: I also want to reflect on the seasons of our lives, and how they mirror the seasons of nature. How, when life hurts, we can find comfort in the natural world. How the Earth is there to teach us grace and acceptance.

Craig and Dan

So let me tell you about Craig and Dan. I’ve featured both of them in Rx Nature as “Champions of Nature.” Each one is an expert in the native plants of his home state—Florida and South Carolina. Both of them are past retirement age, but they still work in all sorts of heartful ways to caretake and preserve the natural world, and to inspire others to care for it, too.

You might recall reading about Craig Huegel here last year. He directs the University of South Florida Botanical Gardens and he’s the author of many fine books about landscaping and gardening with native species. If you want to know anything at all about growing plants in Florida’s semitropical climate, Craig’s your man.

Photo courtesy of Craig Huegel

Several years ago Craig found his life partner in Jane Mussey. She shared his enthusiasm for the natural world. They made a perfect pair, enjoying travel and botanizing and gardening, but Jane’s health issues were a looming concern. For awhile her cancer was in remission. Eventually their luck ran out. These last five months have been a nightmare for Craig and Jane. She was admitted to the hospital in November 2024, and never came home.

Photo courtesy of Dan Whitten

Then there’s Dan Whitten, who is president of the South Carolina Native Plant Society. Dan is a self-taught naturalist who offers up his treasure trove of botanical knowledge in a variety of venues. You read about him here just last month. Dan and his wife Sherrie had a mutual passion for exploring the natural world and sharing it with others. Most every nature lover in Upstate South Carolina knows and appreciates the Whittens. When word went out that Sherrie’s cancer had returned, we were all saddened. She and Dan and their family and friends made the most of her last few months: traveling, hiking, spending as much time outdoors as Sherrie was able. Until she was no longer able.

Seasons of grief

Now it’s a new season for Craig and Dan. The season of grief. And loss.

In the hours after Jane’s death, Craig wrote this on Facebook:

“I learned a lot from my time with Janie, but the most important lesson is that you can't take time for granted. Each day is a blessing and an opportunity and each plan we have will likely change. Some at least. Use each minute of time you have to express how you feel … My time with Jane was way too short and there are so many things we won't now do, but I believe that the time we had was meaningful. Make time to do what is meaningful to those you love and to the world at large. I'll do my best to be meaningful in the time I have left.”

My heart aches for these grieving men. It will be hard. It will be baffling. Some days will be exhausting. I know this from my years as a bereavement therapist. The death of a beloved tears a huge hole in the fabric of someone’s life.

Eventually, Craig and Dan will move into another season, the as-yet-unimaginable season of learning how to live without the vibrant women they loved.

But I think both men will find solace in the natural world. It’s their comfort zone. It’s where they’re most at home. And it might be the place where they can feel close to Jane and Sherrie in spirit. A place of reconnecting.

Last night Dan, a man of deep faith, shared with me that in the hours after Sherrie’s death, he prayed for a sign to tell him she was safely in the care of God. The next morning, after a thunderstorm, he looked at his rain gauge and it showed .071. At her passing, Sherrie was two weeks away from her 71st birthday. Dan told me:

“I had my sign through prayer, through Nature, the language I understand the best. God speaks to me through His creation, which is always a spirit-lifting experience.”

This spring

Meanwhile, even for those who are not grieving, the Earth offers sweetness.

This has been the longest and most beautiful spring I can remember here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. We’re still luxuriating in it even now, midway through May. What a gift!

Windows are still open, a sweater is still necessary on our morning walks, the evenings are still cool enough for alfresco dining on the porch.

And … holy moly … the wildflowers have simply outdone themselves this spring!

Mountain laurel growing wild in our woods (Kalmia latifolia)

I am dizzy with gratitude.

When a lovely season lasts longer than expected, when nature shares her beauty with such astounding generosity, how can we not feel grateful?

In the last seven months, Jim and I have experienced a trifecta of natural disasters:

• a direct hit from a hurricane and the thousands of trees it felled, all around us

• a too-close-for-comfort mountain wildfire

• earlier this week, a mild earthquake that shook the house

A lot of upheaval in our little corner of the world. Yet the small and large beauties of this place delight my heart every single day. When I walk outside and look around, a wave of joy washes over me so powerfully, I want to cry. Often I do.

Change and constancy

We are all subject to the passing of seasons in our lives, in the world around us. Even those of us who are not very connected to nature can’t help but notice when one season slips into the next. When the air changes and trees look different and we adjust our outdoor activities to the thermometer.

But even amid the changes, there’s constancy. And that seems to be nature’s guidance for us, don’t you think? She shows us that we can rely on the constancy of change.

The seasons arrive oh-so-softly, they bloom into fullness, and then … then … we have to let go.

We have to train our hearts to release what we love.

And to trust that it will all come around again.

I also want to take a moment to acknowledge a friend here on Substack, Mark VanLaeys, who lost his dear wife Emily back in February. Mark is a few seasons ahead of Craig and Dan in the grief journey, and he writes eloquently about the experience of loss in his Substack, “Us AND Them.” I recommend it if you’re interested in the topic of surviving the death of a partner.