How blessed we are to walk these verdant halls each day. A week’s worth of rain and a few bright and warm days worked together like ingredients in an old recipe to produce these vibrant colors. The greenery will grow darker, the treetops will thicken, and these electric limes and mints won’t be with us again until next May.
I try to remember that, to embrace the passing of time, to hold dear to this very moment.
I’ve said it before—Samwise is aging. Who knows how many of these May walks he has left. He’s spending more time directly behind me, leading only for brief moments. Hill walking is mostly in his past, and, hence, our past since we do everything together, and it would shatter him to be left behind.
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