One Hundred Twenty

We acknowledge just four seasons.  Look around you, every day for a year, and you will see clear evidence there are many more. Day before yesterday, for example, I enjoyed a day that could not possibly be classified as Spring (or Summer or Fall or Winter).  It was something in between, an admixture of seasons sprinkled with climate change and intellectual poverty; there was just a dash of corporate arrogance thrown in, too.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
This entry was posted in Ruminations. Bookmark the permalink.

I wish you would tell me what you think about this post...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.