North
It is sometimes better to start at the end. And to speak of north is to speak of endings. The farthest you can go, the edge of the Earth. At least that is what it can feel like. It’s where everything is moving towards, where everything is being pulled. It is a destination, a point to reach, a place to make your mark. It can take a while to get to the edge of the Earth, as it can to get to the end of anything. But time has a habit of shifting here, of moving back and forth and of standing still. Summer can feel like autumn, day can feel like night. It can be winter in the morning and spring in the afternoon. There has been snow on daffodils and thick grey fog instead of sun. There are the markers that stand out though, the ones that tell you where you are. They remind you that there are actually seasons, that there are things that only appear in certain places and at certain times: poppies that explode at the side of the road, heather that turns purple as i...
