End of Summer

The fading colors of late summer, the wilting flowers, and the softening evening light all whisper the presence of autumn to come. Their vibrance is fleeting, yet in that very evanescence lies their truth.

In my practice, I continually face this truth, resisting the urge to turn away. Each breath is an invitation to appreciate it more deeply. My art, too, holds this presence of things passing, as if each stroke and texture carries the trace of vanishing time.

As I watch the natural world slip so gracefully into decline, I can see my own mortality. A bittersweet sadness stirs, yet a quiet comfort joins it.

Flowers, colors, light, and even I share the same fate. To contemplate this is not to despair, but to enter more fully into the tender, fragile beauty as it unfolds and falls away.