We draw hard lines between the seasons on a calendar and we mark our own time in years in the same way too. But the seasons bleed into each other, with evidence of last year's autumn via lingering seed heads on this year's winter day and still future plants just seeds waving in the wind. My best friend's son turned a year old today and he is just beginning to walk and to name the world around him. Now I've been wandering around on two feet for many more seasons than him, but still in some ways I too am just figuring out the world around me.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment