I’ve never really noticed the seasons before. Being at home gives me time to actually notice slow changes. Like how it gets dark at 6pm instead of 5pm beginning in mid January. It’s not like I don’t notice it’s winter or summer or spring, it’s just that I now see the empty tree branches. Actually see them, earnestly, and get to miss the thick colorful foliage of fall or the newness of spring and the heat of summer. Not as a passing thought when I see bare trees but as a lasting feeling that starts when the first leaf drops and I retire my hiking boots to when layers of frost and snow dominate nature’s existence.
From my apartment I see the sun go down and paint the sky a muted orange, I notice because the blue no longer runs into the darkness. When I’m done with work, it lingers, like an uncomfortable question or a child eying cake. It feels like spring is coming. But longing is replaced with the rational thought that February is when true winter beings. A cold harsh thing that I get to avoid from the safety of my apartment.
Perspective is indeed a sobering state of mind.
A Note to the Reader
Hello there!
I hope you enjoyed that. For me, curiosity sometimes lends itself to brief moments of jarring thoughts. I have had several musings, far too many to count and for far too long, so the numbers here are entirely arbitrary – my views on consistency are no secret. More to the point, this is the first of many with no rhyme, rhythm, reason, or order. May you find it aMUSING.
February Flurries:
