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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
Well, itās August.  Not sure how I feel about that. Normally, I am all for Summer coming to an end. I look forward to a couple of months of cooler weather. The just-right weather means no air conditioning is needed. No heating is needed. Itās the less expensive weather.So, thatās how I start a blog post when I donāt have any ideas for a blog post. Trying to come up with some deep, philosophical thoughts about something everyday and mundane. I have no thoughts about August. I donāt think itās possible to find anything philosophical or poetic about August. I forgot to watch Christmas movies in July so I am going to watch Christmas movies in August.  A little snow makes it all bearable. All the dry grass, the flowers dying and going to seed, all the desperate last-minute bees who donāt realize their fate is sealed, birds disappearing one by one. Cover it up with snow. Please. I see in the news that some parts of Australia got a rare blanket of snow. Enough snow to cause power outages. Enough snow to play in. Enough snow to build snow-roos.  Some snow, twinkly lights and a world without stinging insects. Better than August. |
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