Perhaps my being drawn to the contrast between winter and spring is a bulwark against anxiety about death. At some point in time death is final for all living things. I find myself thinking about how we humans are slowly destroying the
subtlety and complexity of nature. I try to have hope that we're capable
of a huge turnaround, that we all can find a way to lead more
sustainable lives. But right now, seeing this fullness emerging in the plants around me is enthralling with it's promise of new life. I find I want to rush to try to join the green shoots somehow, and express this ebullience in art, even though another part of me observes that time is passing.




