Living in the northern climes, as I do, and spending a lot of time outdoors I’m reminded on nearly a daily basis of the passage of time. Early spring wildflowers bloom and fade within days giving way to slightly slower maturing vegetation which grows and goes to seed in anticipation of early fall flowers blooming and the lush greenery of the forest canopy turning to yellows and reds; all within a matter of weeks.
The process is beautiful, you know, and reasonably anticipated each year but living in the moment as I try to do is regularly interrupted by remembrances and anticipations imposed upon me by evolving nature.
I’m not complaining. Transitioning nature is a wonder to behold. I must admit, though, to a feeling of melancholy as summer wains. I find myself thinking of my inevitable mortal demise. The feeling will dissipate as it always has, the seasons change and I will find myself in a world of cold, ice and snow in a time that will pass much more slowly.