Right now, with winter fading away and all the color in the world returning, I feel like I’m driving down a very long, very dark tunnel. The exit is still a ways off, but I’m driving very fast. In a short time, I’ll come shooting out, surrounded by all that has been missing.
Of course, it’s impossible to see the moment that Spring actually arrives. There’s no threshold to cross – suddenly the brush is just moving. It spreads forth, ever-expanding, like a painting started at some random spot on a canvas.
A lingering sense of a beginning endures, but everything blends together as in a perfect composition. The season is the ultimate creative act, like the colors themselves are invented for the first time each year.
Before we know it, the new tones and hues will be too numerous to acknowledge individually anymore, so enjoy the anticipation – or at least try to. The first brushstrokes today will soon be the masterpiece of summer.
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