Sweet, sweet Summer time.

I name each season. The Disillusioned Summer comes right after The Spring of The Sprawl. It’s something I’ve been doing for a few years, a way of helping me sort and remember…um, life.

Thank goodness for seasons. Can you imagine life without our prompt masters of change and time and element?  Fall of ’02 would be lost somewhere amid 365 days of monotony. Trying to pull out memories from the indistinguishable months would be tiresome and we’d likely stop trying after a while. Life would move from perpetual to predictable and that would be that. Oh, but thank goodness for seasons: colorful, fresh, and busting at the seams with prospect. Each one building on previous empires of neatly mapped memories.

This Summer’s been laced with Rememberings When and riflings through mental chronicles of not quite bygone seasons. I don’t know what this humdinger  of a Summer will be dubbed just yet, I suppose it hasn’t really finished becoming. But on its way there it’s been steeped in sweat and hard, hard work, in very merry tunes and poetry and in heavy nights feeling the earth breath at star-rise. And always, always in glory.

Glory to the God of Change and Season and Back When.


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