Summer's slipping between my fingers like a silvery living fish, and there's nothing I can do to hang onto it. And so another summer is just about shot, and I barely paid it any attention. Maybe it's part of being a grownup, or at least someone who tries to pass for one when I sense that someone might be watching. But there's another way of looking at things, as always. On the other hand, maybe there's something to be said for not taking too seriously anything that exists in time.
Seasons pass, quite noticeably around here.
Each has its particular and individual value, although I admit that you have to scrounge around pretty vigorously to find anything good to say about either of our two Mud Seasons, the fall or spring edition. Ultimately all that endures is God and our souls, if they are indeed immortal, as Christian rumour has it. This inseparability, and this alone, will stay with us. And we'll always have soulwork of some sort to do, which is why Jesus pointed out, more often than once, that we really should spend more time working on our own sins than supervising others'. But I suspect a soul could spend quite a lot of eternity working with God on becoming all that that soul could be, which is what perfection really means.