The Great Crashes Happen in the Fall

And it is Springtime

Spring is the most persuasive liar in nature’s considerable arsenal. Everything it shows you is true and everything it implies is false. The grass is genuinely green. The wildflowers are not faked. The light at this angle, late afternoon, gold across the field, is exactly as beautiful as it appears. Someone has brought a blanket and a bottle of wine. Children are running. There is laughter. There is the particular ease of people who have survived another winter and feel, in their warming bones, that survival is the natural order of things — that the world is fundamentally a place that continues.

The meadow is real. The dancing is real.

The cliff at the far edge — just past where the tall grass hides the horizon line, just past where the ground stops being ground and becomes nothing — that too is real.k out my new post!