Post by bluemingidiot on Jun 9, 2019 7:59:06 GMT
The nights are no longer full of the rushing sound of desperate and relentless, bi-polar winds of spring, anxious to bring forth new life, but the still, too warm and too humid, summer sound of desperate and relentless insects, anxious to bring forth new life. I am constantly amazed how the old days are always better than the present.
All seasons, perhaps like grandchildren, are beautiful, but as I age, winter, spring and summer are increasingly noteworthy for their sensory overload and discomfort.
All seasons, perhaps like grandchildren, are beautiful, but as I age, winter, spring and summer are increasingly noteworthy for their sensory overload and discomfort.