everytime there is a change in the seasons, i find myself making ridiculous declarations about how that particular season is by far my favorite. and i never learn. i just continue to do it year after year, season after season. but i can't really help it. i love all the changes. i love the cycles of life of death and life again.
this weekend serves as a kind of interesting juxtaposition of those two, life and death. i mean, it is clearly full-on spring here in western new jersey: the flora and fauna are blooming and bustling. life is teeming and twitching all over the place, as you can see from these pictures of flowers and baby birds from our yard today.
this weekend serves as a kind of interesting juxtaposition of those two, life and death. i mean, it is clearly full-on spring here in western new jersey: the flora and fauna are blooming and bustling. life is teeming and twitching all over the place, as you can see from these pictures of flowers and baby birds from our yard today.
and yet the weekend isn't all about life. it is also, fittingly, a time to reflect on those who spent their lives in protection of something larger of themselves. it is a time to think of sacrifice, of those who saw too few springs. it is a memorial weekend, a day to remember that life is indeed a precious gift, and many have chosen to risk that gift in order to provide and protect the liberty we enjoy.
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