That’s when it hit me. “Love is a season,” I heard in my half-stirred mind. The idea sparked an entire conversation, jumping back and forth within the limits that middle-of-the-night thinking permits.

“Love is a season.” Now, as I turned toward my left, I understood. There, lying next to me was my partner in life. Together we planted a seed that blossomed into a most magnificent garden. I know when the season began and believe in my heart there will never be an end to it. Still, I wondered where we were at this very moment. Is there plenty of time to plant, or is harvest time nearer than we would like it to be?

Then I remembered the two pepper plants I saw that day. One in my garden and the other potted just outside my door. The yield from each was wonderful this year. One provided long sweet peppers, and the

other closer to the house burst throughout the summer. A perfect blend for some fresh salsa whenever we wanted it.

I had picked both plants clean, and their growing season was over. I had discovered that day that several new blossoms appeared. In fact, a few new peppers had already begun to grow. I didn’t know there were two seasons. Perhaps that explains our love.

On Sunday, September 16th, we celebrated 18 years of marriage. If love is a season, then we must be blossoming again for the second time. She is the sweet pepper, and I am still hot for her. Love is a season. Or maybe two. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)