The death of summer is not a sudden transition but a gradual one; it seems to me that autumn approaches apologetically, easing itself into the year an inch at a time. 1,054 more words
Tags » Seasons
My head knows that the seasons here in Tasmania are back to front to my instincts and UK background.
I know that Christmas is in summer here, that July is winter. 229 more words
To be whole.
Is this a paradox to a humanity that is hopelessly broken?
I’ve been in my own process in the recent months of learning to understand who I am as a person, what state my heart is in, and to embrace the point I’m at in the process of becoming who I’m made to be. 739 more words