I've been dithering and fretting about spring, confused and almost panicked. Is it always this urgent, this poignant? And I'm wasting it worrying; too trite? too schmaltzy, all those flowers, all sweetness and light, not original, not relevant?
How pointless is that, how much missing the point.
Housman knew; no matter how jaded, how burdened and bitter we are, how much we seek to practise stoicism and non-attachment, spring is one of the things that cannot be denied, whose unbearable fleeting sweetness will always call us back to life; it is something owing, something demanded, catch me now, for I won't linger.
So I haven't the time to be original, or to plot and plan clever ways to make something new of spring, since that is a tautology. It is here, out there and in me, and you, and I'm not going to miss a moment of it more than I have to. And I'm going to photograph it and post about it, like there's no tomorrow, because, as far as spring's concerned, there isn't.
Good!
ReplyDeleteThankyou. We are sliding into Winter. After the Summer, the cold is so very welcome.
We will always enjoy your photographs, so click away!
Good point. Spring is finally back here in the northeast U.S. after a two-week return to winter, and I need to get away from the desk and get outside.
ReplyDeleteYour photographs - and words - are so welcome! We're behind you here but spring does seem to be finally coming - I can't wait.
ReplyDeletespring, bursting from cold
ReplyDeletethough in more temperate climates
warm eases to hot
A proper way to look at spring, I'd say, agreeing with you all the way.
ReplyDeleteNot denying spring -- what a wonderful life-task! I'll take it up.
ReplyDelete