For Now

The Caverns in Her (I, no. ii)

2016, oil on canvas

40" x 60"

(Aspect 2)

(Aspect 3)

(Aspect 4)

Perpetual winters, youthful springs.

There are those who thrive in the unhurried pace of winter, abide in its dropped temperature, and build fires from flittering embers in a dying wood pile.  The December-March gardeners who wait patiently for the return on the seeds they have sown, who take the needle-sharp thorns along with the cushion of their tender pink petals.

Then there are those who dance most beautifully in the light rhythm of spring, stand resolutely still in its April downpour, and welcome the longer days with barefoot, porch-light evening songs.  The humble guardians who lay palms of warmth on the frost-bitten, who breathe gaiety and wonder back into the disenchanted.

Some seasons stay a little longer than expected.
Others, shorter.

People are the same way.