I used to call this time of year dead season, for obvious reasons. One time I told an old radical guy I know that it was my least favorite time of year, and he made me go on a hike with him. We went out to an old abandoned marsh, where told me to look for color. At first I didn't see what he was talking about, it was just a bunch of dead grass and stuff, but then I looked deeper. I began to notice greens and yellows, rust, and soft tans, even purple, and dusky blue's. It's a lesson I'll never forget; even in the deadest of seasons, colors abound.
No comments:
Post a Comment