Time (Entry 3)

The grass in my yard is so green.  I’m sitting in the yard, right on the edge of the woods.  I don’t know why the grass looks so green today.  Maybe it’s the way the sun is hitting it.  Maybe it’s my new glasses.  Maybe the vibrancy I’m seeing is only in my mind.  Maybe I’m imagining this little detail because I have to start this blog somewhere, and the grass was the first thing that I noticed.  Whatever’s going on, this grass has caught my attention, which is no small feat for grass.  I mean, it’s grass – not exactly the most exciting thing in nature. 

It’s warm out, my phone says 85 degrees, but the leaves on the trees reveal more about time than the deceiving temperature and sunshine.  It’s early October, and I look up at the trees, noticing shades of red, orange, and yellow invading the leaves.  Soon their summer-time green color will be a memory, at least until the spring. 

I think about time a lot.  Every year the leaves change colors, and every year I’m always surprised.  Not completely surprised (after all, I know this change is coming), but surprised by how quickly autumn creeps up on me.  I wonder if a year will ever come when I won’t feel a little bit shocked by what I have thus far always perceived as an abrupt change. 

My cat, Sassy, is outside, stalking around the yard.  I can’t say what she’s looking for, if she’s looking for anything at all.  She doesn’t seem to notice the start of the change in seasons.  I wonder if cats (or animals in general) have any concept of time.  They don’t think in hours and minutes, I suppose – they can’t read clocks, at least I don’t think.  I imagine they can differentiate between night and day, but to what extent?  If the sun didn’t rise one morning, would Sassy notice that something was wrong? 

Sassy walks over and sprawls out on the warm cement of the patio.  I walk over, sit by her, and pet her.  She purrs.  I hope she’ll be this happy in the winter, even if it snows.  

Sassy