Went for a walk at the park yesterday. After quickly growing bored of the manicured lawns I hiked up the hill into the coastal sage. The seasons are backwards here. This time of year is like the end of winter in most places. Dormant, brown, death. The only green, those lucky few who happen to have a privileged spot near a leaky sprinkler line. Just born in the right place I suppose. Luck.
But the death and despair is just above ground. Every season comes to an end. Deep down there is still life. And the rains are coming to wash the dust and dirt away. I may be a scientist, but I have faith in that.