inbetweens

For all the hype of the seasons in Europe and most certainly Europe, cause I know no other, people who romanticize the changes in the in-betweens are often aghast or perplexed or in awe about said changes. It is like a twilight or a dawn or a dusk of sorts, personally I prefer the Spanish word for it. Crepusculo. The most common for us in the west is certainly Autumn or the Fall. In the news we get around spring the blossom of the cherry trees. People gather about these changes and upload their here and now moments in their respective social medias. You know which ones dear readers.

I suppose the old adage that one needs to stop and smell the roses is still prevalent in this day and age. Today, for example, the 18th of April of the year 2026, it’s air filled with the cries of the countless birds about that only a few weeks ago were all but absent. The noises of the motorcycles rip the normal silence that like heavy snow on grass lay cumbersome on every living breathing thing 10k wide. Nevermind that few celebrated the return of said birds and other creatures lurking about. Perhaps a few took a pic of birds with their ears on the new grass shoots hoping for a squirmy earthworm.

I saw the branches of a bush today, up-close. Their shoots or buds stuck out. I stopped to take a leak, I needed to piss. In my neck of the woods it is easily done, no harm done. The shoots craved attention as most newborns do. Here and there signs of the old winter lay strewn about. I saw old snow still scattered, not yet smelted. I know that more candid weather is to come, but today it ain’t happening.

I content myself with what it is. Cool yet fresh. Barely thawing. Like when one gets up in the morning. You stretch and regain force. Spring is like that I assume. Renewal. A new chance at whatever this is. A chance to smell the roses.

15 Han clachado