I find myself walking down a familiar road. I observe that the wheat field is covered in a sheen of frost. The ground crunches beneath my feet and I’m like wth? It’s supposed to be spring. “I believe your gran called it blackberry winter” says a voice beside me. I look to see my old friend George. I nod in agreement at his assessment. The one last freeze in spring that prod the beautiful berries to burst forth with their dark sweetness. I tell him that with the silver sheen on the webs, it appears as decorations for a fete. “That could be arranged” he tells me.” What will we be celebrating?” I ask. “Nothing and yet something. Everything yet nothing. “I laugh at that ridiculous statement but then I realize that it’s been awhile since I’ve done that, celebrate just to celebrate, to enjoy the day and revel in that which is within. I look around. Look at George and tell him, “let’s party. “Instantly tables appear, food and music abounds. Friends appear as if they had been summoned. It was a grand celebration of nothing and yet it felt like it was the celebration of something important. Life is interesting in that way. The things that are, often aren’t, and they things we think aren’t, often are.