Even though it's well into November, the roses are still legion. Many have browned, some just around the edges, and wilting is evident. Some have miraculously weathered the frost- the survivors. One hardy crimson variety boasted many.
From a distance, the roses looked like the buds of spring. The foliage on surrounding trees belied such a notion, yet the roses' colors still impressed.
Some of us feel the onset of doldrums. I hope to roll with the flow of nature, like the roses. As we light our fires and unearth woolen blankets, the park workers will arrive to put the roses to bed. Our metabolism slows.
We don't have to fight it. We can rest with the roses and believe in spring.
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6 comments:
I "feel the onset of doldrums" here in Bogsville. It's raining, the outside temperature is 10C but there is an azelia in bloom that obviously thinks it's spring again.
This is so uplifting. Ever the hope of a new season. Lovely.
The poet emerges, quietly spinning depth and density from the cooling air.
We don't have to fight it. Do we?
We can surrender and let it support us and carry us along on the river of life. And those who see us doing that will think we know something special and call us gifted.
Only because we decided to quit fighting what was natural to go along with.
smiles,
liz
Ah, Lizsun's wisdom is truly our own. She guides us to ourselves.
Okay, maybe I am strange, but I find this time of year very energizing, the time when I most feel like pulling up roots and launching new projects. It is the time of year when I am most likely to think about people, and to think about myself as a person. As opposed to spring when people are just annoying and irrelevant. In the fall and early winter, I date people. In the spring, I dump them and date roses.
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