I stood on a hill in Dunoon, Scotland, in the middle of March many years ago. Powerful winds brought a succession of rain, sleet, snow, hail, and sunshine over and over again in the course of an hour – a microcosm of the turbulent transition from one season to another. The change of seasons this week in Western Pennsylvania was less compressed – spread over days rather than minutes – but otherwise not so different. The week began with a warm evening on the deck, listening to what surely would be the final cicada and frog chorus of the season. Gusty winds brought cold temperatures and days of rain, followed by an enchantingly beautiful misty morning immediately followed by a snowy morning, all in less than a week.
Though I’m reluctant to acknowledge the end of the gardening season and the coming of winter, I must admit that I love the turbulent changes that the seasons’ transitions bring. There is a certain security in knowing that one season will follow another, an overarching stability of structure. But the passage from one state to another is filled with chaos, unpredictability and extreme fluctuations. It is this push pull of change and stability that fascinates me, and it seems to be at the heart of my artistic endeavors as well. Achieving a balance between the familiar and the novel, the security of what has been done and the adventure of exploring new ideas, is an ongoing dynamic in my work, and perhaps in my life as well.
A video celebration of nature’s transitions in my garden, set to the music of “Falling” from “Three States of Being.”
Here’s another take on the idea of transitions as passages, courtesy of Margie Strosser.
All text and images of “Turbulent Transitions” ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved
composerinthegarden 
When I was young we had a small garden every year. My favorite time was right around the first frost. Most all the vegetables were harvested and the scent of autumn decay permeated the air. It was the sign of a season coming to a successful end. Made even better by a chill in the air and some warm setting sun. Thanks for making me remember.
I love that smell of autumn; it makes up for knowing that winter is around the corner.
I love your photos of the transitions from fall to winter in your garden.
Thanks, Judy; I loved your sunset photo, so beautiful.
I truly loved the photos of the garden in bloom and covered with snow. I keep going back to a particular tree with a bench beneath it, taking pictures of the tree and bench in various seasons to watch the transitions… I so love this type of observation. Great shots!
I know that feeling, of returning over and over again to a certain scene to catch it in all its ongoing variations. Thank you for such an insightful comment.
This was so lovely! I wish I had a film length DVD of your video/music combinations to just pop in whenever I need to unwind. This was so relaxing and made me smile – like a kind of yoga for the mind!
Yoga for the mind-I like that!
I agree that knowing one season always follows another is incredibly reassuring. We said.
That was supposed to end with “Well said”. Clearly I need another cup of coffee.
Got ya. Loved your post; showed my husband as he is my “human test reader” for my posts as well.
Your garden scapes are lovely and evocative! And I loved your music track! Thank you!
Jill, thank you. I visited your website and found your tapestri paintings. Beautiful and complex use of color but at the same time ethereal. What a pleasure for the eye, especially at this time of year in the eastern US when color is on the wane once he autumn leaves fall.
So beautiful! Thank you for such lovely words and photos. I especially love the video montage to “Falling.”
Thanks so much, Tammy. I had great fun putting “Falling” together, something I have wanted to do for a while. ‘Tis the perfect season for it!
Your photography is beautiful! I could live there.
Thanks, Kathy; it IS wonderful living here, as long as I pay attention!