Spring in Boston
Spring is back with a vengence in Boston, and the first buds from the red maples are starting to unfurl. The city seems transformed, a groggy bear waking up from hibernation. It's that blissful time of year too, before the summer haze waters down the sunlight, and the brick buildings along the Boston Common glow orange at sunset. The people seem transformed too; women wear skirts for the first time in months; the man behind the counter actually smiles when he gives you the change.
Part of me wishes I could live in a city like this, in a life like this, always on the cusp of spring. I think to myself- why the hell do I live this far north?! But truthfully I think the long dark winter was good for my soul, and good for my writing, at least the sheer quantity of it. There's plenty of time alone in the winter, time to stew and steep. Maybe too the bitterness of the winter makes me love the sweetness of the spring that much more. Or maybe not ;)
