I was on a walk with my best canine friend last November when I came upon this old milkweed pod, up beyond the fields and just at the front edge of the little piece of woods which the coyotes claim as their own, proclaiming it loudly on clear, moonlit nights.

Anyway I liked the looks of this forlorn little pod, and I took a couple of photos and walked on. After I had passed it, I turned around and saw the milkweed framed by the distant hills and fields and the silvery pink and blue sky, and somehow it took on a glorious aspect. I loved it from that perspective.

Things that are old and past their prime can be the most beautiful of all when looked at from the right perspective, don’t you think?

And am I now talking about an old dried up milkweed pod or is this a metaphor? As I climb the great hill of life, back where I started seems so far away, and I seem to be looking for symbols and greater meanings in everything these days.

Ok, so maybe I’m making too much of it? It’s just a pretty old weed blowing in the wind.

Or not.

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Thank you for reading this!