Yesterday in New York City, the calendar said early April but the weather said mid-June. The temperature was close to 80 degrees, and the trees were unprepared — the fruit trees bedecked in flowers, everything else just beginning to bud.
The jonquil was thinking, "I hate being the first one at the party."
Walking along the East River, I scribbled this in my little Moleskin, "Just now the waterfront is so still it seems the air itself is holding its breath." Eventually the breeze sidled in, rippling the river just enough to get a little row of Canada geese bobbing.
I sat in the shade with my salad, reading about the mind and listening to the small, happy sounds of an infant on a blanket in the grass a few feet away. It was a lovely day.
"Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush."
~ Doug Larson