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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/2-16-2021
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by Ned Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Book · Entertainment · #2199980
Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life.
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.




February 16, 2021 at 2:35pm
February 16, 2021 at 2:35pm
#1004615
Although the wintry mix of sleet and snow falling this morning batters my window with every gust of wind that interrupts its otherwise ground-ward travel plans, I definitely hear the first sounds of approaching spring. Birdsong. And the songs I hear are those of returning species. I don't notice when they've gone away but I definitely notice when they return. The cat notices, too. It gives her something interesting to watch at the window after a long , boring winter of mostly white landscapes and few woodland creatures to observe except for the odd squirrel or a few, squawking crows. She's mad about crows.

I have never been so keen on spring before as I am this year. Generally, I prefer winter snow to spring showers, slush to mud, bare trees to leaves. Perhaps it is age, perhaps it is my dismay upon seeing the heating bill, but this year I am not unhappy to see winter off.

Grey skies notwithstanding, the birds are returning to prepare for spring. I am going to hope they know something I don't, because all I see from here is winter.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/2-16-2021