It may technically be #1001 or #1002 because I think I may have deleted a couple. Who can remember?
Doesn't matter. This one will be the first to show the number 1,000 for the post count, so this is the one that gets the high honor.
I feel like I should make some kind of profound statement but what? No idea. So I'll just throw out some random thoughts and hope something sticks.
Life is change. I think someone famous may have said that. Maybe lots of people have. It's only three words. Not much to come up with. Might as well say the sky is blue, but that would be four words. Anyway, life constantly changes. Things come and go. Flowers bloom and flowers fade then new flowers bloom and they also fade. Some survive the harsh winter while others rely on spreading their seed in the fall so that their offspring may replace them come spring.
Maybe if plants could write books, they'd forget the whole seeding thing. They would have their words to pass along for years to come. But then who would read those words or care? Then again, their own offspring may not care, so what would be the point?
Maybe that's why plants create flowers instead of books. The bee cannot pass up the flower, yet how many bees will buzz past a book and never take notice?
Look at a garden. There's no hate there. Do you ever see plants aggressively cross-pollinating? No, they wait for the bees to come. Or, to a lesser extent, the butterflies. But mainly bees. There's no rage seeding. There's no rage blooming. They may compete for the sun and climb and climb if they can, but most are content to stay in their spot and take what comes their way.
When the storm comes, they take it.
When the winter comes, they accept it.
When the spring comes, they let loose.
It's kind of peaceful in a way. Do they know joy? How can they not?
But when the locusts come, they consume everything in sight.
But if the roots are strong, the plants will grow back.
They don't give up. They don't give in. They just continue to grow if they can.
So you can be a plant. Or you can be a locust.
If you're a locust, you eat and eat and eat and when there is no more, you leave the place barren and leave your waste behind and move on to somewhere else and repeat the cycle.
If you're a plant, you can grow flowers and produce fruit.
Your books are like your flowers and fruit.
They can be beautiful and fragrant and taste so sweet.
Or they can be ugly and stinky and taste rotten.
It's your choice.
The locusts aren't picky so it doesn't matter to them.
But if you're flowers are beautiful and fragrant and your fruits taste so sweet, there will be gardeners that will protect and cultivate you and maybe even cover and protect you if the locusts come.
Up to you.
Maybe none of that makes sense. Maybe it does. Draw from it what you will.
I'll take my leave of you now. Give people a chance to miss me. Or not. Probably not but such is life. Life is change, you may recall. Maybe it will only be for a day or a week. Time is relative so who knows?
Who knows?
Until we meet again, keep on truckin' and remember to stop and smell the daisies now and again.
