Forgotten are the green shoots of grasses in Spring. Curled and blackened carcasses are all that remain in the garden. Except the Rosemary and Feverfew. One too stubborn and the other too simple to realize what time of year it is and the futility of fighting the frigid winds.
Unfortunately, the weather matches my mood.
Rage on irreverent elements. Shake your fist at the folly of men. We think we’re so clever, so immune to the vagaries of mother earth. But she will have her way. Just stand us outside on a day like this for an hour or two, and see how puny are our defenses. Your cell phone cannot shield you from this winter day, nor will your bank account warm you.
Remember before Whom you stand.
No matter how hard you try to pretend you are in charge, a little wind and cold rain will send you scuttling like a fox to its den on a deep dark winter morning such as this.