With the changing of the seasons, I adore fall and all it's charms, and I can abide winter if I complain just a little about the cold and ethereal days, ...which do have their charms, but they get to me. As winter approaches, I start to complain to myself that the bitter cold is coming, the birds will soon be gone, the flowers are dying, (except the rose currently blooming in the yard), and on and on. But then I realize that nature needs it's own kind of reverie, just like I do. A lot of it. Like from December to February. And I need to give her that room to restore herself. So while she reveries, I need to find things to keep myself busy, until spring comes and I'm restored to my reverie, in the offerings nature gathered for herself in the bleak winter.
With the changing of the seasons, I adore fall and all it's charms, and I can abide winter if I complain just a little about the cold and ethereal days, ...which do have their charms, but they get to me. As winter approaches, I start to complain to myself that the bitter cold is coming, the birds will soon be gone, the flowers are dying, (except the rose currently blooming in the yard), and on and on. But then I realize that nature needs it's own kind of reverie, just like I do. A lot of it. Like from December to February. And I need to give her that room to restore herself. So while she reveries, I need to find things to keep myself busy, until spring comes and I'm restored to my reverie, in the offerings nature gathered for herself in the bleak winter.
