Ending

The Arb was busy today, some special program going on and it was a delightful day for a stroll. So crowds there were! I generally walk in the early morning, so I meet no crowds, only a few dog-walkers, some runners, and the stray walker. I’ll confess I like it better that way. I wouldn’t think of denying anyone access to the Arb, as if I could; I’d just rather walk at a less congested time.

Today, I came in the afternoon, so I enter by the footpath at the junction of South and Bussey streets, walking toward what is called, even when it’s virtually dry, Bussey Brook. And it was somewhat less crowded.

I have a long-standing interest in shooting dead and dying things. It’s not perverse; rather a recognition that, for me, I can’t love the light without being familiar with the dark. So living implies dying. And I want to keep looking.

Thus, this small collection of leaves. It’s the texture that I’m noticing; the colors are brave, if not entrancing. Yet there they are, serving as a counterpoint, a moment of tension for me to remember the cycle of life - where I am in it, where I’ll end up, and what to do in between.