On the pace of things that grow
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
The observation is plain enough to check. Nothing that grows is in a hurry, and the absence of hurry is not the absence of work — the work is simply happening at the rate the thing can bear.
Where it stops being consoling is in the word everything. A season accomplishes what a season can. Applied to a life this becomes an excuse as easily as a comfort, and only the person in it knows which.