Fireworks and firewood

The warmer weather is well and truly here.

In my industry, that usually means the phones start ringing a bit more, listings start flowing, and energy lifts across the board.

But this seasonality shows up everywhere in life:

In relationships.

In almost every other business.

Even in our health, mental and physical.

We move through times of fireworks and firewood.

If we’re not paying attention, we often miss the change.

Or ignore it.

Or simply fail to prepare for it.

We wind up chasing summer strategies in the middle of a cold front.

Or worse, we celebrate so hard in the sun that we forget to cut enough firewood for the next winter. By the time we realise, everything around us is damp and cold and sparse.

In all honesty, this metaphor breaks a little when we apply it to real life.

Because (usually more often than any of us would like) these shifts happen in the blink of an eye. Especially in the human parts:

Illness. Injury.

Drifting apart. Separation.

Loss. Death. Grief.

Things ending that we thought would last.

Then periods of necessary repair.

Or we fall in love.

Bring a child into the world.

Someone shows up and helps.

Something small finally clicks into place, and another chance appears where we thought there was none.

All of it human.

All of it seasonal.

And none of it fully in our control.

I’ve been in both seasons plenty of times, and spent a lot of time somewhere in the middle. I think most of us have.

Our fireworks seasons are the highs, the wins.

The chapters that make a great story.

They’re loud, exciting, and they light up the sky for a moment.

But they don’t truly keep us warm.

Only firewood does.

And that takes effort.

Quiet effort.

Sometimes you’re chopping away in the cold, even in the rain, wondering how long it’ll take to dry. Wondering if it’s even worth it.

But when the next winter rolls through, or lasts longer than we anticipate, you’ll be glad you did the work.

None of this means we shouldn’t enjoy the highs.

We should.

We need them, and we need to enjoy them.

We just can’t build our identity on the fireworks, or get so distracted by them that we forget the firewood. Because when they fade, we need something sturdier.

So: strive for the sun, even if you can’t see it coming.

Plan for winter, even if you’re warm right now.

And expect both, because both will come.

Lastly, if you’re currently in your own version of winter right now?

One you didn’t see coming?

Or that won’t seem to end?

Keep going.

You can’t make fireworks out of firewood.

But if you look up, you might still catch a few embers drifting through the air.

Moments of warmth, beauty, and meaning.

They’re still there.

Even in the hard seasons.