Spring.

I could be convinced to prefer spring over the other seasons.
Water runs faster and deeper. The birds fly a bit faster. 
This hawk was out of sight before I could focus. I noticed the turkey buzzards were not soaring currents as normal, but seemed to be hurriedly dashing to and fro searching.
 And the sun brightened bark created deep shadows, both contrasting with the seeming translucence of emerging leaves and buds.
 Ten more degrees and I would be convinced.
I am enjoying it now however.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Great Killingly Tomato Festival

Image
Agricultural fairs have long stopped being what they should be. Families reuniting.  Fathers relaxing with their children while mothers rest without.  LOCAL performers and marching bands  surrounded by local merchants and entrepreneurs.  Ridiculous contests .   In an era where some agricultural fairs won't allow dogs on their grounds the Great Killingly Tomato Festival is a refreshing hint at the origins of the crowded overpriced carnivals that pretend to be local today. 
Read more
Image
I'm finding myself short on patience towards those that do not push me to be better, or worse want me to lower my expectations of myself or them. I simply am too busy to deal with that, nor do I wish to hear your new path to misery; I'm quite adept. I am willing to let go if you will not contribute in a positive manner. So many want to only see the negative, others only the positive. There is always both; one has to see their ability to use them to advantage. I care less today if one walks out. They should not expect me to recognize them quickly afterwards. If I am not important enough to share good times, do not expect me to share much else. I find myself shedding a past that was largely not attempting the improbable rather than striving for the possible. Secure jobs that I didn't particularly want to pay for things I couldn't maintain. I think I'm done with that.
Read more

The Happiest of Holidays to All!

I'm a huge fan of Christmas. I'm not a fan of huge Christmases. I've enough years that I'm no longer offended by the superstitions of religion and tradition the surround the holiday. Indeed, I'm as likely to explain the importance of those legends as I am to point out they are logically refutable. I can now see the stories without literally believing in fantasy worlds. The pageantry that surrounds Christmas still escapes me, though. My mother trained me to expect the "big gift" to be the last one presented, sometimes finding it as I climbed in my bed. Thankfully this doesn't happen to such an extreme, so I'm not teetering on edge all Christmas. There were years when my wife and my mother seemed to be in competition. The tree's circumference of gifts rivaled its height. Many of those Christmases were marred with bored (or scowling) faces that were required to open more gifts, with no time left to play with them. It was pronounced if a chil
Read more