It sat glistening opaquely in the sun. The ghost of a snake laid discarded on our front porch on a bright spring day. I searched the garden looking for the creature who had shed her skin but she was gone. All that was left was her discarded outer layer, inside out and whole. The snakes opaque perfect imprint glistened in the afternoon sun and whispered of a creature who had been and who had moved on. As we traverse the end of a year like no other, and stumble into a new season, I can’t help but feel like that snake shedding her skin. The metamorphosis of a butterfly is attractive, celebrated and seen but I am not a child transforming into an adult. I know that I know and the skin of my life doesn’t fit in the same way it once did. A change of form or nature isn’t needed in mid life but maybe a shedding of one’s skin is. Less visually dramatic, often unseen but always vital. Vital as a plant taking root in the dark hidden winter soil before is rises in Spring. Vital as a snake quietly freeing herself from an old skin that no longer serves her well. The snake’s head fritillary in our garden, here in England, remind me of the snakes back home on the peninsula. Adapting and evolving as the seasons come and go, as we all do throughout the different chapters of our lives. Happy Monday from our garden to yours.