Years can be such slippery intangible things, as we slide from one to the next. Season to season. Walking through our lives noticing so little of what the last year has held and what the coming years will bring.

Except hair wet with rain in Spring. Skin glistening with sweat in Summer. Crunching leaves beneath our feet in Autumn. Letting flakes of snow cling to our lashes in Winter.

And then again and again. Stretching out before us in a pattern that I see no end to. Intangible. But it’s life.