Life is a Verb

Shakespeare advised that brevity is the soul of wit. I would take it a few steps further and add that it is also the soul of all things short-lived and precious. Scarcity creates value, be it diamonds, gold, real estate, or wildflowers.

Wildflower season in the mountains is brief. In fact, so is summertime, for that matter. Anticipation for wildflowers and summertime incubates for months and months. Spring is a "tease." She doles out temperate sundress days then snatches them out from under you, dashing all hope that the back of Old Man Winter has been broken. 

It's weird living in a place where it can snow any month of the year; if not in town, certainly up on our alpine playground. Another degree of global warming would be fine by me if it bought an additional week of wildflowers and summertime. And to think it's halfway over, that the days are growing shorter, that, at our age, we might not see another... 

Man, talk about "brevity." Where did youth go? How short is "life?" A clock ticks, but the "hourglass" runs silent. I fear there is more on my "to do" list than time to do it. 

Life is a verb, people... get to it!