The
year closes in a few days, and we have known Paxton through beginnings and
growth, maturity and harvest, decline and rest. It is tempting to think of
endings now, as if the slow succession of these passing seasons has been
experienced as such, as a linear passing of this thing we call time. We can’t,
as the ancient Greeks proclaimed, “step into the same river twice.”
How
wonderful to see it through to this point – not the end, though, as it is
tempting to believe, but rather to know that the cycle of the seasons begins
anew.
This is
the real wonder – to know what is yet to come, that this river of experiences
in this Paxton year returns upon itself; that we have stood not within the
river, watching as the months and seasons have flowed past, but rather we have
been carried along.
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