The sudden greening of the world around me fills me with with a sort of bubbly effervescence, fleeting, but incredible all the same. I feel like Clarissa Dalloway, bursting open the French windows and plunging into the open air to buy flowers.
In the morning, heading east to the train, the sun shines through the new leaves and they become almost fluorescent, while the shades of pink on the flowering trees astound me: fuchsia, petal, rose, salmon. Each color a small miracle after a long and bleak winter.
Even so, as the effervescence begins to fade, the early flowers are falling from some tress. The voluptuous Japanese magnolia blossoms create a rosy silken carpet; the forsythia is coloring my garden bed with sunshine. And I? I am waiting for my lilac to scent the air.
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