Spring is here, then goes away for a few days, then comes back. I wanted to take some pictures of blooms and blossoms that I could be happy with,  but nobody was cooperating. The sun would go behind clouds, the wind would shake everything, the purple little blossoms on some kind of ornamental tree came and went too quickly, and on and on. So I took some pictures anyway. Too many to show to anybody.

 

So another spring to live through, and then some kind of summer to live through, and then on and on, but not for long. Nobody knows for how long. Vita brevis, ars longa… not necessarily. To every thing there is a season. A time to be born, a time to die. We were born when and where we were born as part of a precise plan. And we will die according to plan, on the day, in the way, that was set. That is, unless we do something stupid like bungee jumping and the rubber band breaks; or luging down a crowded street and a car runs us over; or playing Russian roulette; or a hundred other stupid things people do, chancing it, risking death for a thrill. You can cut your life short, but you can’t stretch it out for long. And to even do that you have to make a deal with God, who is in charge of all this. So I wonder: if you get some type of cancer, should you try to beat it, thinking, it’s only right to fight for longer life, and modern medicine is here to assist; or think, well I guess that’s my way, and it’ll soon be my time? I don’t know the answer.

 

In the meantime, I guess I had better quit wasting time and get back to grading a stack of final exams that’s a foot high. And then classes start up next week, and I should make some adjustments to my lectures. Oops, I just admitted I give lectures. I hope the EdD Stasi aren’t monitoring.