Only a rose, dying away… so sang Little Edie as the house she lived in decayed and fell to pieces around her. We all have our ‘Grey Gardens’ moments, when the world passes us by, when we get stuck in a rut and seem unable to move forward, frozen in a moment of time that stalls and repeats. That kind of stagnation is death to me, and it’s time to shake the shackles in some way.
Like the faded rose seen here, there is a certain dangerous beauty to the past, even when it’s but an echo of former glory. The summer never lasts, and the winter is long. Our gardens are only in our memories now, slumbering beneath the snow, sleeping until the sun returns.
