Monday, March 1, 2010
We took a walk with the dog around the tidal basin yesterday. It was a blustery afternoon; the wind pushed the clouds across the sky like so many ducks in a carnival game. The sun was in and out, and when it was out it seemed a tiny bit warmer and more golden than one has the right to expect on a day in late February. Even so, geese and gulls huddled against a stiff northerly breeze, bobbing on the choppy gray water. As we made our way around, we encountered piles and piles of cherry branches trimmed and stacked neatly below the trees they had come from. Broken during all that winter weather we had a few weeks ago, they were ready to be hauled away. Passing by, I saw that the tips were loaded with buds. They were still as hard as pebbles and many weeks from blooming, but I mourned the thousands and thousands of cherry blossoms that would never be. We rounded the other side of the basin, the wind quieting at our backs, and it occurred to me to snap some twigs off to bring home. In a vase they should bloom in a few days. Tonight as I left school the air was mild, and I knew that spring is not far away.