A Small Place
I am in the warm embrace of spring. My bluebonnets are up and last night's rain should be just the drink they need to really flower, and the sky’s water will do the same for the spiderworts. The Irises are blooming as well, benefitting from their move to better soil and more constant sun. It will be quite a show out my kitchen window this year. And less you think I’m locked in purple, I have a Crossvine and a Texas honeysuckle giving me red and yellow blooms.
As friends go, the seasons have been fairly constant, and I guess that’s why I pay so much attention to them. Each has its own special beauty, and in most cases they are what you make of them. And to varying degrees they come without fail. They open the gifts I’ve tendered and take care of them as best they can, understanding that I know forces beyond my control affect their moods and behaviors. Hard rains may fall, and cold days may come, and the sun will stray too close to the earth, but I adjust.
So, if the seasons have taught me anything, it’s how to temper my desires and modify my behaviors to the best effect because I know nothing is personal. It’s never an affair of the heart with the seasons, except for mine. The seasons are eternal while I’m merely another life form sprung from the dust blessed or cursed with a bit of awareness, and while I may want to say, look at me, they never will. So, all that’s left is for me to look at them and say, “Wow. Isn’t that something.”