I am an optimist, a dreamer, a realist, a romantic, a writer, a reader, and an occasional cynic. And yes, you can be all of these things.
I am a lover of spring, summer, and early autumn. I love sunrises and sunsets. I love warmth. And when it snows in late March, I find it monumentally depressing. Will it ever be spring?
Only a week ago, I was driving towards Pasadena. It was dark outside and the windows were down. There was the most delicious and heavy scent of flowers in the air. It was unlike anything I had ever known. And, later when I could smell the ocean, I was overwhelmed by how good life is.
Life is still good. And spring will come eventually.
"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason."
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
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