Three seasons in a week

It was a bracing walk
The sun shone brightly on the lake,
A weak autumnal sun,
Bright but un-warming
And a light wind stirred the branches
Of the leafless weeping cherry tree
And added to the chill
The familiar pair of resident ducks
Bobbed on the choppy surface
Seemingly oblivious to the cold
Mist on the distant mountains
Hinted at what was to come
By the time I pushed open my front gate
I was suitably refreshed
And glad to be home

That night the storm hit
A storm that began as a hurricane
Far out across the ocean
Then as it hit the land
It was merely a tropical storm
When it got to us it was just a storm
But what a storm it was
Thick black clouds turning day to night
It rained and promised to rain even more
Inches and inches of rain
Large gray drops ran down the bare trees
And splashed on the grey waters of the lake
Bouncing off the green and brown backs
Of the resilient swimming ducks
The Hurricanes remnants
Took three days to pass
And left the lake considerable deeper
.
In the calm after the storm
We basked in the warmth
Of a bonus summers like day
Left in the tropical storms wake
The two ducks swam lazily across the still water
Bees were out looking for flowers
Ants crawled around in the grass,
Adding to their winter stock of food.
And squirrels chattered away
As they searched for acorns and pine nuts
And ran amongst the shadows
Of the dogwood trees
A blue heron flew to the very top
Of the leafless weeping cherry tree
Doubtless lost in the storm
It spent the day recharging its batteries
And getting its bearings
Later it joined the ducks on the water
Obviously to ask directions

The next day summer had gone again
And autumn had returned
The day began with an overcast sky and chilly breeze
Later as I walked for a while beside the lake
It had become a warm and sunny day.
Warm of course, is a relative term
It was above freezing, just
The sun was bright; the wind light but cold
All was silent, the waters calm
A duck slept in the shadow
Of the leafless weeping cherry
The other was close by but silent
And the blue heron was perched,
Motionless, on the top of the bare dogwood
Before it launched itself
And after circling the lake once it was on its way
The squirrels were hiding
I saw no bees searching for flowers
And the ants were out of sight

Winter arrived yesterday
With heavy snow falling in the morning
Then the skies cleared
And the temperature plummeted
Today the landscape wass even more beautiful
And the lake was frozen
The ducks were no where to be seen
I don’t know where they go
But they always come back
The ground is crisp under foot
And it is very very cold
The squirrels were the only creatures I saw
And they were happily raiding their stores
Feasting on acorns and chasing around
I decided it was too cold for me
And headed for the fireside
Too reflect on this week’s abundance of seasons

A very beautifully-painted picture. I especially like the sequence of the seasons in this poem--from soft to strong and from warmly and comfortably appeasing to harsh, repeatedly-- just like the waves in the very nature, the mother earth, that you've painted.

I don't know if this would ruin the poem, but if more sounds and especially smells are added, it couldn't take me any closer to the real place.

I'd have read this differently, with more patience, if it had been presented as a short story in which the narrator was more than a highly evolved camera but had some objective that was woven in and among the the aspects of the weather. Weather, of course, is virtually a cliche in setting the protagonist's mood but here it was tempting to speculate whether he himself was going through something reflective of or influenced by the weather.

Interesting points thank you both