The land has a pace, the seasons rotate and change with time passing. With some endeavor one can freeze time to their liking. Create an artificial environment where it always spring or whatever their favorite may be. It is this illusion of control so many want to exercise over nature. They whine, gripe, complain and the bellyaches roar. Yet the seasons march on, they have a drum beat few listen to.
I posted a picture while back and I got the comment that it pl;ace looked ill kept. Stopped me and I had to think. The grass was trimmed, no weeds or trash floating. Well just a minute, then the bell went off. It was green grass like a golf course. It was a winter picture and the grass was brown, in hibernation for winter. Few people accept the brown drabness of winter in the high plains. It is a semi arid land and the grass goes dormant to conserve water and energy for it get very little moisture in the winter.
This is nature’s way of keeping the land intact. Man comes along and does not like it, so things are changed. A nice green grass is planted and watered and there it is a scene from back east. No longer is it the semi-arid land of the West. So to keep the illusion, water is transported from a far distance, the mountains to provide for the greening of the brown land.
Voila the illusion is created. The dry drab brown land has become a lush green land. Vegetation that is not native is planted. Trees sprout in a once barren land. The hand of man forces a change on the land. A small environment has been made. The illusion has been reinforced.
The water is not always there and to keep the illusion, water fights ensue. Demands are made that certain amounts of water should flow. Nature provides gallons some years, others it is ounces but the fighters want the gallons no matter what. To great lengths the battles roar.
Does it sound like the demands we put on politicians. Through government fiat people want them to provide a certain lifestyle. Instead of understanding the life they were given, they go crying to big brother and that’s from both sides of the fence. Always thinking some can can do better for them then they can do for themselves.
People harken to the tune of the Natural man but do not hear the rhythm of the tune.
Even in the spring the land is mixed, the green edges out the brown yet it depends on what the skies bring. The dormancy of the land is turning, new life is emerging. The pulse of the ground is vibrant and gives life to those that listen.
Learning to live is a lifetime journey of living in reality. Pushing the illusion to the background.