When the first day of the month arrives, my calendars I should go forth and change them. No, I do not go forth and change the months. It is nor until I look at days to try and schedule things do I realize I have not changed.
I have become so spoiled by the puter that I seldom use a calendar any more. In my gadgets bar I have a clock plus a calendar, day and month. So when I turn the machine on all this nice information jumps up on the screen and says hi.
So the wall calendars tend to collect dust hanging from their hooks. This year I got a bunch of calendars and probably could get some more. Lots of the local businesses are giving out calendars and I have collected a pretty varied group of pictures to hang on the wall.
The days of life march past and I am but one little character in the play of life. So as my chapters unfold I desire to enjoy them.
There are a few events that happen I want to remember, otherwise the days melt into each other. Passing as ships in a fog but hearing the chimes of the bells floating past.
The snow if passing in front of the wind, a touch of white patches the brown grasses of the dormant ground. Birds huddle in the trees, search the rafters for protection seldom venturing out. The hawk of the north has sent it icy breath across the prairies. Soon the eve will arrive and the calendar will mark another day.