The impermanence of things

I used to drive by this old house every time I went to work.  I found it quite photogenic and took pictures of it many times, hopping out of the car to catch it at a different time of day or different light.  I liked the picture I took one day of a farm worker riding his bicycle through the field.

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Then one day as I went by . . . it was gone; it had finally collapsed.  And within a few days all the remains had been removed, so now it's as if it never existed.

Very few things are permanent -- rocks, maybe, but even those get worn away and turned into sand.  Certainly many of the things I love -- flowers, birds, a beautiful day, the seasons -- are here and then gone, and they leave behind a kind of nostalgia mixed with hope, that they will come again some time.

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Photography can at least make things semi-permanent, can fix them in time so that we can go back and enjoy the images of things past.  Somewhere, that farm worker is always riding past the ramshackle old house, and somewhere, the flowers always bloom.