As I read about the storm which is blanketing the east coast in record depths, I look out and see the closest thing we have to those flakes, the petals of the ornamental pear trees planted along the street.
I love these trees, their nearly-black rough bark, their beautiful foliage that changes color in echo of eastern maples, and particularly their soft tiny flowers. The tiny white petals are here briefly, falling prey to our winter rains and winds, then they blow and drift across the lawns in fragile simulation of the frozen coverings in the east. When we walked around the neighborhood yesterday the gutters, still draining the day's rain, carried drifts of petals like wave-spray. Our system does drain into the ocean, so eventually those petals will become part of the Pacific that is mimicked here in miniature.
But today the rains have stopped and the wind is calm and the skies are blue and bright. There's some sort of football game coming this afternoon, but I'll be reading or playing Lexulous. I've decided that the team with the blue shirts will win, because I always pick blue. And if I'm wrong, well, so what?
No comments:
Post a Comment