Our power must have gone off yesterday. The two electric clocks we have in the house were inexplicably set to zero in the afternoon. And that got me to thinking about time. Well, that and the shock that June is almost upon us (where did April and May go?). And the real live cuckoo bird who is nesting somewhere in the neighborhood and sounding for all of the world like my clock, but “going off” at random times. And the son who appears to grow by inches on any given night. And the beloved dog and best friend who passed away last week.
Time engulfs us and confounds us. We decorate our towers and homes with it, wear it on our wrists, celebrate its high holy days, and mourn its passing. Time heals all wounds, but steals all souls. And if we respect it and appreciate all the fine gifts the years bring us, we still fear it. We don’t understand it at all.
So, today, I offer a few photos and let time speak for itself.
And so, time marches on. . .
*”Had we but world enough, and time” is the first line of Andrew Marvel’s poem “To His Coy Mistress”