Ah, Spring
I always say that autumn is my favorite season. The leaves turn brilliant colors, the air smells brisk, we celebrate our anniversary with a guilt-free dinner out. But really, I think it's spring. I think it's spring because I hate winter. Maybe I love spring to spite winter. Or maybe I love spring because it's paradise.
We're always talking about moving to a house with a "better layout." But it's pointless to talk about moving in spring because our lilac trees are blooming. I'd been eyeing those lilacs for over a month before they bloomed. I wished those nascent buds into opening, letting out their gorgeous color and intoxicating scent. I promised to bring them into our home and worship them for the gifts of nature that they are.
Lilacs were my Baba's favorite flower. I never appreciated it when she was alive, but it's so clear to me now. Whenever they bloom I cut a few for her.
Stopped at a traffic light yesterday, I looked to my right and saw a narrow walkway adjacent a small abandoned building. At the end of the walkway, furthest from the street, was a blooming lilac tree. How sad it was that this tree had no admirers. Such a fleeting natural pleasure, and no one to embrace it. I hoped that an elderly neighbor would discover it and cut all the blooms before they were spent. Both the tree and the human deserved it.
My second favorite part about spring is the one week of the year when the delicate pink blossoms start blowing off the trees. They descend like warm snow and lay fluffy and pure in the gutters of the streets. The beauty of this makes me so happy.
If I were dying, I think I'd want it to be in spring. Because at least I'd know my death was in the midst of an abundance of rebirth.
We're always talking about moving to a house with a "better layout." But it's pointless to talk about moving in spring because our lilac trees are blooming. I'd been eyeing those lilacs for over a month before they bloomed. I wished those nascent buds into opening, letting out their gorgeous color and intoxicating scent. I promised to bring them into our home and worship them for the gifts of nature that they are.
Lilacs were my Baba's favorite flower. I never appreciated it when she was alive, but it's so clear to me now. Whenever they bloom I cut a few for her.
Stopped at a traffic light yesterday, I looked to my right and saw a narrow walkway adjacent a small abandoned building. At the end of the walkway, furthest from the street, was a blooming lilac tree. How sad it was that this tree had no admirers. Such a fleeting natural pleasure, and no one to embrace it. I hoped that an elderly neighbor would discover it and cut all the blooms before they were spent. Both the tree and the human deserved it.
My second favorite part about spring is the one week of the year when the delicate pink blossoms start blowing off the trees. They descend like warm snow and lay fluffy and pure in the gutters of the streets. The beauty of this makes me so happy.
If I were dying, I think I'd want it to be in spring. Because at least I'd know my death was in the midst of an abundance of rebirth.
posted by Anne at 7:47 PM
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