“What? Don’t you see the year pass through four seasons, 215 each with a counterpart in our own lives? In early spring it’s young and milky, like a child. The grass sprouts fresh and soft and tender, and farmers are delighted by its promise. All things are blooming, and the blooming field 220 basks in its colors. Yet the stalks aren’t sturdy. When spring gives way to summertime, the year grows strong and hardy like an adolescent. No other age is stronger or more vibrant or more intense. After youth’s passion fades, 225 autumn ensues—mature and ripe, a time between old age and adolescence,
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