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It's challenging to live in the middle of woodlands as I do and not see the cycles of nature - cycles of death and birth - at every turn. Near impossible, in fact, not to notice the slow rolling of seasons, as one declines the next begins, and over again, until the years circle around the wheel of time.   I live in the woodland - and these reminders are ever-present.   As I write this, outside my window a tall juniper sways in the chilly sunlit breeze of late winter.  Its winter color is a duller hue than its bluish green summertime color - but soon enough, that familiar pretty blue-green will creep back up into its limbs, and it will signal the coming of the warm season, where growing things emerge and thrives for months.   Where now the ground looks cold and hard, soon it will be loamy and soft, and small green shoots will erupt from its surface and reach toward the sun.  These are the cycles where we live and die.  These are cycles that govern us, but which are almost universall

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