Winter

"True, she could remember the winters. Cold-terribly cold.... But time was so different-much slower, and not broken up into such little bits as now,
each one hurrying after the other like pieces of ice
on the creek in a March freshet.
There had only been seasons then.
Great wide seasons-
long arcs of time that stood over one like high Heaven itself.

Now it was different. There were too many events-Fourth of July celebrations, political rallies, county fairs, college commencements and the like. Left a body down right breathless keeping up with them. Broke up time into too many pieces-small hurrying pieces, rushing to catch something that was always ahead. Spoiled any kind of thinking.


Spoiled people, too. People used to be big-like the place and time. They didn't move too fast. There had been a kind of peace that went with those great stretches of blue time arching over the seasons. Yes, people were big then. . . .


She felt crowded. People talked so much and about too many things. They didn't finish one subject half before they were talking about something else. They nicked up time-that's what they did-nicked it up into little pieces. One little piece for this and another little piece for that. Made themselves little too, to fit into the pieces. That's what made the days seem so short, and-so little. Now the world was just like a crazy quilt. Nobody could say a crazy quilt was restful, either."
-Exerpt from Kings Row by Henry Bellamann (See side bar for more about this novel.)

Here's to living in the great wide seasons. . .