The Weight of a Season
I spent this morning trying to clear out my junk drawer. It is one of those tasks I put off until the clutter feels like a physical weight in the house. Among the tangled cords and dried-up pens, I found a pressed flower from a walk I took years ago. It was brittle, almost turning to dust between my fingers, yet it brought back the exact scent of that afternoon. It is strange how we try to hold onto things that are meant to be temporary. We want to freeze the bloom, to keep the spring from turning into summer, as if stopping time would somehow make us safer. But the beauty of a season is that it doesn’t stay. It arrives, it spills over with life, and then it quietly makes room for what comes next. If we could keep everything, would we ever truly appreciate the sweetness of the arrival? Or do we need the inevitable fading to remind us to look closer while we still can?
Mehmet Masum has captured this fleeting grace in his image titled Acacia Blossom from Diyarbakir. It feels like a quiet reminder to notice the small, temporary wonders that appear right outside our doors. What is one thing you have noticed blooming lately?
