Walking along the streets of Linz, Austria a couple of weeks ago I had a moment when my senses were simultaneously hit with memory triggers.
A crisp coolness in the air and light greyness filtering the sun’s light to a bright shadowless day.
The multi-colored glory of trees and bushes giving out one last spectacle of worship before submitting once again to the death of winter.
The crunch of already downed leaves as I walked heightened by the smell of the same, dew damp and already transforming back into the earth.
Whenever I die — and I believe that we must die far more often than the one “big” final curtain, exit stage left — I want to go out like the Japanese Maple or the Colorado Aspen! Singing! Dancing! Fully confident that spring follows winter every time.