I’ve been sick and busy (mostly sick) and between one thing and another, haven’t made it out to the park for a week. Yesterday I walked down there with the Bobbles and found the previously bare trees in full, glorious, tender leaf. I don’t know why I was surprised. It is time for spring, after all. Perhaps I just wondered if spring would come this year.
Spring in the City of Flowers. And here we are at the end of Winter, wondering what to do. We were lucky, maybe, to pass the winter in San Diego, where one almost doesn’t notice it. But we noticed. And winter still lingers in the corners of our minds.
But yesterday I walked barefoot in the grass again and smelled its smooth fragrance. “The grass is merry again,” observed Axa. I’m not quite sure what she meant, but I agree with her. The sunlight does put a cheerier spin on things.
Today we visited Boboli Gardens, a gigantic inner-city sanctum of formal gardens and marble statutes. All the way up at the tippity top is a little formal rose garden and a porcelain museum. From a little fountain where monkeys gambol over still water, the panoramic view of the city shows beautifully against a radiant Tuscan countryside dotted with wildflowers and olive trees. Wisteria drapes itself over many of the walls, offering a tantalizing fragrance of hidden gardens.
We’ve missed the green. We’ve missed birdsongs and flowers and rolling in the grass. We need to find some more somewhere