fiercely living in the now

And all the people were singing as they turned back those clocks...There is absolutely nothing like spring in New York. Today was that first really nice spring day--the one when the birds wake you with a pleasant hello song, the sun is shining and the warm in the air puts a glow in your skin and your smile. You don't hafta wear a jacket. You don't hafta go to work. You have the whole day minus that wee hour for the saving of the daylight, which you will treasure from this day forth unto the summer's dusk.

In California, where I mostly grew up, spring does not equal the joy spring equals on the east coast. When you've got spring or summer every day, it's not so easy to notice or appreciate. Like watching hair grow--such small increments each day, they become nearly invisible. The book I'm reading about Story, says that repetition equals boredom. People can't watch a movie and be bored to tears by the same event happening over and over again, even though that's often what our lives feel like. Nope. An audience can't expect to be wowed by that. Well, that's how spring is in California. But in New York, the sad seasonal affected faces lift, the clothes peel off, the smiles ride high, the children cackle and run and the dogs, they are smilin. The little buds are starting their bloom. It's a sure sign, spring is coming, although it's never over til it is and one wise man sang that sometimes it snows in April and I've seen that happen many times, so I'll still be counting eggs in a couple weeks.

Happy spring. I was in Central Park today and the roller skaters were groovin' on their wheels, the statues were standin, the kids were dancing to jazz quartets and Thoth was whirling in his dervish singing opera even the non-opera appreciator will love. It's spring in New York and many juicy days of wandering this great city await, many patio coversations over delicious food, more layers of clothes getting lost so our hungry skin can soak in the sun and the love and the adoration like the flowers as their colors scream, I'm alive!

There is nothing quite like spring in New York.