I’ve been watching the bracken ferns slowly turn from green to yellow to brown. They vanish entirely during the winter, only rising once the snow and frost have entirely passed.
I enjoy transitions.
There is something about watching the changes around me, even if the ending is entirely fixed and known, that captures my thoughts and imagination.
Maybe especially if the ending is fixed and known.
I have an attraction, both in real and life and in stories, for passages where the ending is a clear, known point.
Some of my favourite events and writing are those that have a known destination, but which manage to make the journey towards that destination unexpected and engaging.
There is rich material in the changing of the ferns’ colour, even if it ends in their fading disintegration.
There is rich material in telling stories about the pieces in and around events whose ending is an ever-present knowledge.
Much of our lives and world hold inevitabilities.
I am drawn to celebrate the stories that live vibrantly and fully in the face of their known outcomes.
The truth is, the ending is the least interesting part of our lives and stories.
Our celebration of the roads we walk is the true magic that pulls us into the world around us.
When I look at the fading bracken ferns, I don’t see the ultimate end of the dying fronds.
Instead, I close my eyes and see another spring, another vibrant rise of green making its way into an unknown world.
My fascination with how the journey reaches the destination is longstanding, in both life and reading.
If you’d like to see my own wedding of journey and destination, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here.