Turning with the seasons

@CCSeed

The seasons force our actions when we live within them, not in spite of them.  This morning Len, George and Junior delivered four more cords of firewood.  Junior, seated above on his tractor, has been riding the same machine around town since the early 1950’s (cool side note: the piece of metal sticking out just above his right knee on the inside of the fender is a bottle opener).  Today Junior turned 78.  

Junior’s had a tough couple of weeks.  Last time I saw him he was badly cut over the left eye from falling on his porch.  He simply passed out.  He made it clear “I wasn’t drinking, neither.”  He fell into an old coffee can full of nails.  When he came to, blood was everywhere.  You could hear the fear in his voice.  George and Len hear the fear in his voice too.  ”Junior’s not been right,” George observed, “He’s holding back, not working as hard.”

Sometimes the inevitable weighs on us like a killing frost.

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