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The Door has fascinated me for years.
It is part of an abandoned house near where I live. I meant for many years to take a photo of it in each of Canada's four distinct seasons.
The Door remains closed
and the seasons wrap themselves around it. They try to impose their will on the door, yet the door remains.
Nature batters it with rain and wind,
sleet and snow, and caresses it with sunshine and breezes and the soft buzzing of insects enjoying the vines that cover it.
For me, the door is a choice,
a decision, a force of will that resists change. Yet the door remains, and the choice remains.
Which side of the door will we live on?
Do we need a way out, or a way in? Or do we need The Door at all? I will have to give it more thought one day for my own life, but I would really love to hear about the things you think and feel when you see this door covered by vines in the different seasons of life.
