Awake at 4 AM and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Thinking about mortality, which often plagues me when I’m sleepless in the middle of the night, and especially as we inch toward spring. I guess I’ve had a lot of losses in fair weather. Maybe I should convene a Spring Grievers group.
We had sunshine today, after yesterday’s rain. Deep blue sky and fluffy clouds. Our five crocuses are up, staggering across the little strip of lawn between the house and the driveway. I don’t know how they got there. Do voles rearrange the underground furniture?
The snowdrops are fully open now, looking like tiny white skirts in the afternoon sunshine. They won’t last much longer. Already the siberian squill are starting to poke up nearby. In a few weeks they’ll carpet the woods in blue.
That spring is a season of hope is a cliché, but like most clichés, it’s generally true. Perhaps the only surprise is that it becomes more true as one gets older. This spring seems to me both more encouraging and miraculous than last spring. Perhaps it’s because with each passing year I’m more aware of my mortality - and the astonishing fragility of life.
We had sunshine today, after yesterday’s rain. Deep blue sky and fluffy clouds. Our five crocuses are up, staggering across the little strip of lawn between the house and the driveway. I don’t know how they got there. Do voles rearrange the underground furniture?
The snowdrops are fully open now, looking like tiny white skirts in the afternoon sunshine. They won’t last much longer. Already the siberian squill are starting to poke up nearby. In a few weeks they’ll carpet the woods in blue.
That spring is a season of hope is a cliché, but like most clichés, it’s generally true. Perhaps the only surprise is that it becomes more true as one gets older. This spring seems to me both more encouraging and miraculous than last spring. Perhaps it’s because with each passing year I’m more aware of my mortality - and the astonishing fragility of life.
No comments:
Post a Comment