"Late" Often, I find myself wondering: Is it better to be a late bloomer or to bloom in season? In season, you can feel the warmth of others blooming around you, the light warming you and them, the ravages of time taking your petals along with your fellows. There is no need to stand out, no feeling different... When you bloom late, though, you stand alone, in a field of gray you are the spot of color. The last reminder of a time past and a time to come. You see the splendor of a winter rain, feel the biting cold of the first frost. Seeing and feeling all that your gray brethren could scarce imagine.
















