Being in the city it's not often that one gets to enjoy some greenery. Growing up in rural Pennsylvania, I was surrounded by fields, mountains, gardens, forests. It seemed there was no end to bountiful grass, trees, and flowers. How I took it for granted. I now find myself wistfully longing for the by-gone days of my youth and childhood when I would play among the huge lilac bushes in the front lawn of our old house, or smell the sweet scent of a begonia bush in the back yard, and when my brother and I would get into some mischief by the pine trees on my parents' farm. (In fact, I seem to recall a certain opossum incident one cold winter. The poor guy had already gone to the happy hunting grounds when it seemed to my little brother and I that he just needed to go out in a bit more style. So hang him up by the tail from the pine tree branch, we did - for all to see and observe.)
Winter and opossum incidents aside, springtime always - wherever I am in the world, gives me a hopeless case of nostalgia. Perhaps it is the abunance of green and living color, or the fresh smells, or the dewey rains. Perhaps it is everything about springtime all together that takes me back to those bygone days of fields, grass, and flowers...
And then I wake up. Which would be to the sound of a blaring car horn that makes me want to scream curses at the top of lungs. (You didn't think that poetic prose was gonna last too long, did you? lol) And I remember I am in New York City - the city that never sleeps and doesn't want you to, either. I also recall all the things I have given up to be here, but also all of the things I have gained. And I decide once more to look on the bright side of life.
And on that bright side are these gorgeous roses that I've been able to see every day this week on my walk to the gym.
