Changeable, the very essence of spring weather, one minute bright, sun kissed, the next windy, rainy, as damp as a Glaswegian summer afternoon. Whether after a winter hard or somewhat mild, I love to watch the natural world burst into bud, vegetation green, sky become less threatening, almost promising, people for all their normal dowdiness develop a skip in their step, suggesting good creeping around the corner.
If optimism were a color it would be somewhere between vert and yellow, betwixt the sprouting growth and precious golden sun, capturing a sense of fresh beginnings, possible do-overs, a chance to forget the chill of a miserable yesterday and embrace a probability of a warming tomorrow.
Glass half full, glass half empty, the eternally representing dichotomy of human existence, the conundrum of yes or no, forward, or back, proceed or stop, spring or autumn, the commencement of the beginning or the start of the end, positivity, or negativity. We choose to enjoy or suffer, fight or surrender, to fate, or in this case to the seasons.