The witch hazel flowers are small, but the crack of color they are marks for me the time between two seasons. If Nabokov was right in saying our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities, well, then you surely ought to stop for a second to celebrate these fleeting flecks of yellow (and in some cases,or cultivars rather, orange and red) here in the winter of right now. I did.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment