#7
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Seasons change!
And I love it. Maybe this is something that's attributed to "being an adult," but I dropped the summer lust years ago; it's a trait that bookends the mortal lifespan. You're young and you like to play with your friends outside, or you're old and retired in Florida where you can complain about social security.
Now, I like weather. Period. Each season is just as jaw-dropping and wonderous as the last. It's beautiful, God! Thank you! Spring! Your snow melts, clandestine wildlife meetings become more robust! Summer! The leaves you sprouted months prior provide ample shade, and the water is a respite when the lawn-mowing becomes too taxing! Fall! The sun retreats and the jackets emerge, and Club Cafe gets all of the good folk/alt. country artists! And hot chocolate starts making more sense! Winter! The snow is the perfect visual companion to grey skies and darting small birds, specks of red and yellow in the white landscape!
And people complain about the weather, all of the time. The sudden change in the temperature over the past day might've caused a headache this morning, but now I can't wait to go outside and stare at the sky. If you're having a bad day, take five minutes to go outside. Just look up: look at the gradual color shift in the sky, how the edges of trees gently cut into the blue-grey like a drill bit resting on plywood, the lick of the breeze--cool enough but not cold enough to warrant gloves. Why is this something commonplace? Why is this something to gripe about?
I don't think it is. It's majestic.
posted, with grace and poise, by Jason @ 9/12/2006 01:00:00 PM,
