Christmas was all packed up and put away for another year. All the glitz and glam was gone. With help from my neighbors, my fake tree had been dismantled, folded up, corralled into its box, and carted off leaving me to contemplate my existential astonishment at how its bogus existence had created such genuine joy…
Last week I went to the Mt Holyoke College greenhouse show of spring bulbs. Like the show at Elizabeth Park in Hartford, it is an annual extravaganza of color and a real shot-in-the-arm for those of us that are more than ready for the end of winter. Just seeing all that color was intoxicating. The…
Last week I awoke to the lovely sound of a bird singing outside my bedroom window. It was so lovely to lie there contemplating the arrival of spring, and the end of winter here in New England. However, after a while it dawned on me that the bird song was uncharacteristically regular and sort of…
I always imagined that Christmas trees are evidence that Old Man Winter has been nagged into submission by Mother Nature. Old Man Winter might be cold and frigid and undeniably unpleasant, but for this short time, he gets dressed up and turns out for holiday celebrations, looking his best at the insistence of Ms. Nature.…