Seasons of Our Lives


I’ve spent some time with my grandma lately — Grandma Cherrie, who likes to sign off on her text messages with the cherries emoji.

Grandma Cherrie is 88 and a widow of four years. She lives on her own in Las Vegas, spends a lot of time with family, teaches piano lessons, and buys the most fabulous sunglasses you’ll ever see. She misses her husband, my Grandpa Bill, every day.

As she was leaving my parents’ house the other day while I was visiting, she said, “I think I’m doing okay for this season of my life.” I agreed wholeheartedly, watched as she walked down the driveway, cane in hand and only a little wobbly, and gave her a wave as she zoomed off in her Volvo SUV.


There are many ways to interpret the seasons of our lives. Perhaps you think of the springtime of childhood and adolescence morphing into early adulthood (summer), middle adulthood (fall), then late adulthood (winter). Or there’s the emotional perspective: Winter represents those times of heartache and introspection, and summer, one of growth and extroversion.

On a shorter timescale are our daily habits, diets, and activities, which mirror what Mother Nature is offering at that very moment.

Winter is a time of rest and preparation, of reviewing the previous year’s lessons and sharpening your tools (mind, body, attitude) for what’s to come. Shorter days and cooler temperatures make the shelters of our homes all the more enticing.

Springtime is the light at the end of winter’s tunnel, full of opportunity and a chance to act. Blooming flowers and new growth of greenery provide a new lease on life.

Then comes the warmth of summer. The seeds planted in spring begin to gain momentum. Energy is all around, distracting for better and worse. The days are long, full of time well spent. The birds, bees, and butterflies pollinate our yards in earnest, more active than ever, paving the way for flowers to eventually yield fruit and seeds.

Inevitably, summer gives way to fall, where all the preparation and dizzying action of the three previous seasons produce their results — good, bad, or both. Autumn is the final annual sigh of our planet, the harvest time and a burst of color before the leaves fall and plant-life cedes to the colder months to come.

Here we are, with spring at the height of its power in May and early June. The proof is all around us in receding snowlines and blooming flowers. Yet I look ahead to my favorite time of the year, summer, and where my current season of life lies.

I’m busy watching my 10-month-old daughter experience the world and working at a small but mighty newspaper covering Truckee and North Tahoe. The best parts of my days are spent alongside family and friends, enjoying the beauty Mother Nature is showing off. The Washoe Zephyr winds blow hard, threatening the plans I’ve laid during winter, and I wobble a little but fight my way through. I could do with a little more energy, especially on the longest days, but a little bit of winter’s rest will always be welcome in my summers. I’m happy, I’m healthy, and I’m grateful.

I think I’m doing okay for this season of my life.


  • Alex Hoeft

    Alex Hoeft joined Moonshine staff in May 2019, happy to return to the world of journalism after a few years in community outreach. She has both her bachelor's and Master's in journalism, from Brigham Young University and University of Nevada, Reno, respectively. When she's not journalism-ing, she's wrangling her toddler or reading a book — or doing both at the same time.

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