Tempus fugit.

Oh, my. How true. I began this column writing endeavor back in ’73 — that’s the last century, folks — when I was in my early thirties. And now, come mid-month I’ll be an octogenarian.

The two predominant emotions that accompany this milestone are amazement and gratitude.

My weekly scribbling began when I would drive down to Belhaven on Saturdays and help out at the Beaufort-Hyde News, doing a little bit of just about everything except advertising.

During the time I did this part-time job I came to know Belhaven better, and made some good friends while there. If I attempted to name them, I’d leave some out, and that I would not like to do. Many of them are now gone.

For some years after that the column was carried in, at one time or another, a dozen or more papers. Most were non-dailies.

After many years away we moved back here — home — in September of ’91, and until December of 2010, my pen was still.

Now, that’s enough, more than enough, of such memory peregrinations, none of which is of much importance at all. Except to me, I suppose.

This looking back, however, just serves to remind that time really is on the wing. Tempus fugit is a reality for each of us.

And now, in this early morning moment, as I write this, I can see out of the window at least 10 deer, their forms quite distinct against the frost-covered fields behind our house. All creatures great and small. And we know who made them all.

And so, here we are, you and I, brought together by time and circumstance. Our youth has fled. That far horizon we’ve seen for so many, many years, is not so far away now.

We cannot deceive ourselves, for we know that time marches on inexorably. Let us not squander or waste it.

Time is the most valuable thing we have.

APROPOS — “But at my back I always hear/Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.”

— Andrew Marvel, “To His Coy Mistress” (1650)