The dogs and I went for a long walk today. Up north to Rittenhouse Square, down to the Chestnut Street Post Office to mail letters to the 20 year old and almost 19 year old, then west and back south to 23rd and South for perishables at the grocery. By the end of it, Lucy was dragging, happy to be home, ignoring our neighbor on his stoop because she was so intent on being spread eagled on the cool kitchen tile floor. I listened to violins from the open windows of the Curtis Institute of Music, east of the Square, practicing for upcoming final recitals in their classes. Elway tugged as we went past Metropolitan Bakery, nose identifying that place where I often stop for a chocolate croissant and free doggie biscuits. Halfway through the walk it was time to take off my hoodie. Halfway through the walk I started thinking about spring in North New Jersey.
Are the daffodils still blooming? Is the dogwood out? Did the columbines in my old garden survive the winter? Are the hybrid musk roses on the pillars ready to be wrapped and pruned? Is the clover lawn green and full of bees? And the ferns, have they unfurled or are they still wrapped tightly waiting for a more inviting climate to release their fronds? Did the borage self sow so that hairy borage plants line the walks?
Philadelphia is a lovely city. Yes, it is. But North New Jersy, Morristown New Jersey, is stunning in the spring. Today, I missed the beauty of where I used to live.
Tonight, L and I walked home from a meeting. The air was soft, the humidity level still tender. We walked past lit up windows, through full chairs placed outside pubs and restaurants. I said "hi" to a dog that looked just like Gable, the German shepherd mix I got my senior year in college and who lived until the year my divorce was final. The fairy lights were wrapped around the trees and my feet slowed as I walked past the chairs full of strangers. I don't know any of their names, once in a while, I recognize a face. But still they are neighbors here in the city of Brotherly Love.
Tonight, red and blue lights in my windows, rotating atop the black and white cruisers outside my house.
You are the one who taught me that "The Garden State" was actually well named. Does a flower bloom in a garden when the one who planted it is not there to witness it's arrival? I pray that the incredible work you did at Sojourn is blessing its new owners and that blooms you did not plant will spring into your life today Anj.
Posted by: HeidiRenee | 04/21/2011 at 09:13 AM