Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Late yesterday I stood watching as the westering sun blazed its final hurrah before slipping below the hill beyond the river. Another day winding down; one more check-marked box on the calendar. February will soon be over and there'll be a fresh page on the calendar on which to start ticking off the passing days. And before March ends, winter will officially bow out and spring will begin ushering in its vernal green resurrection throughout the land.
Day, month, season…all respond to the relentless passage of time. As do old dogs and their masters. Only the river seems exempt, answering more to weather and geography—tirelessly flowing, winking, pouring, burbling, its quite pools a living mirror for reflecting time's changes. As the sun slipped lower I kept my eye on the swirling surface and watched the dwindling light go from rose to copper to gold, as shadows turned an indigo blue.
Yesterday was a good day—sunny and clear, warm enough that a few more crocus opened their cheery yellow blooms. Now I had this lovely kaleidoscope of sunset's light upon the moving water. I was both happy and at peace—so why the twinge of melancholy? I am greatly blessed. My favorite season of the year awaits only a few weeks ahead.
And yet…I find myself dreading all this winding down.