137/365 01/05/2026

The seasons came and went and the village waited. Summer, with it audacious, verdant spectacle and long days wiling into soft-lighted gatherings in the village square, the night air pungent with blooming vines and field grasses. Autumn, with its first crisp-air flirting and its color cacophony’s audacious arrival: yellow, orange, holly red as if the trees themselves had lit aflame. Winter, and the slow damping of days as night encroached and frost climbed the windowpanes. Low, gray skies, and the people’s retreat indoors.