Winter is coming

Its cold in Edinburgh today, that kind of clear autumn cold that rings through the air like a bell. At this time of year, I'm reminded of something Dad always says as autumn closes in;  'the first breath of winter's chill is on the night'.  I'd hoped to track down the origin of this rather wonderful line, but google has let me down and I remain in the dark.  I'll have to ask the old boy himself.

I did however find this brilliant, but rather miserable poem by recent GPSOE favourite, A. E. Housman (hey, we were in Shropshire for the industrial revolution thing, which led to a discussion about how little those of us who were present know of 'a Shropshire lad').

Twice  week the winter through

Here I stood to keep the goal;

Football then was fighting sorrow

For the young man's soul

Now in Maytime to the wicket

Out I march with bat and pad;

See the son of grief at cricket

Trying to be glad

Try I will: no harm in trying:

Wonder 'tis how little mirth

Keeps the bones of man from lying

On the bed of earth

Just because its melancholy, doesn't mean it isn't true.  The Buddha recognised three things that characterise this world (the dharma seals).  They are: impermanence, no-self, and sorrow.  

So it goes.