Today marks yet another day of life. These 24-hour segments of time seem to fall in upon the other in linear fashion, as if they they’re ultimately leading to a climax, a denouement, an “end of days.” My ultimate demise, I suspect, will be rather anticlimactic, just another drop in the bucket. In the meantime, I try to fill these aforementioned days with interesting activities: sleeping, eating, raising progeny, working the body, and making money. Homo sapiens have a sweet gig, no?
While autumn is my favorite season of the year, spring of course has much to recommend it. In my neck of the woods, though, there’s a small window of opportunity to enjoy the season before humidity and insects ruin it. Today I went for a six-mile run at a park. Whereas in the previous week I delighted in the visual feast of bright yellow dandelions adorning a virescent carpet of verdure, I now see overgrown, unkempt weeds on ugly, fading grass. How quickly things can change. Life is so ephemeral, and the days seem to flitter away like those white clusters of dandelion seeds searching for a home.