As I was waxing on yesterday about the beauty in Huntington at this time of year, I failed to mention that Manhattan has finally embraced springtime too. The ornamental pear trees that line many streets have all exploded into clouds of white, and though our magnolias are beginning to fade, we still have daffodils, tulips and hyacinths. A set of scrappy tulips comes up every year in front of the apartment building next door, from an inhospitable-looking planter on the sidewalk, and I'm always amazed they've survived there to make another annual appearance.
Once again, just like yesterday, a chorus of birds can be heard from the courtyard behind my building. The temperatures have finally gone up enough that I went out yesterday with no jacket - nothing! Such freedom!
And last night, as I sat at the Zendo, spring seeped in through every open window. The Zendo is on the ninth floor of a building in SoHo, a neighborhood of mostly low-rise buildings, and the windows face east. We can see out over NoLIta, Little Italy and the Lower East Side toward the East River, and last night, the view glowed with the unmistakable soft light of a summery evening, the treetops brilliant green down among the concrete. For some reason, a marching band was playing, and that added a surreal sort of festivity to sitting. I imagined that everyone was celebrating, finally, the release of winter's grip.
I walked home enjoying the warm night, the flowers, the enthusiasm and glow of the other pedestrians. So all that stuff I wrote yesterday about someday moving to suburbia? Forget it. I'm not going anywhere.
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