Spring comes to Morningside

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I got into a heated argument on the subway with an acquaintance the other night when he stated that spring didn’t start until April. This was after he said the Frick was full of paintings of horses. I had to pretend that some people getting on the train accidentally separated us so I could calm down. What exactly do people want from spring? Trumpets? Well the magnolias’ fuzzy buds are close to bursting so they’ll get their heralds soon. The crowd of robins perched on them today seemed to share my excitement, making a total racket accompanied by some twitchy bluejays and a flock of cedar wax wings. Had there been more sun I would have lingered, but I also appreciated the solitude of an overcast day.

That is until a cheerful gardener interrupted my snowdrop reverie (ie. taking 5 million pictures) to ask if I knew what they were and then when I got all excited told me I should go into horticulture. If only. Although he couldn’t tell me anything about the two different galanthus varieties in the garden (my guess is Galanthus nivalis and Galanthus elwesii), he could help me identify the small trees with budding yellow flowers – cornus mas. Confirmation of one of last year’s speculations. Walking home, I felt buoyant.

It’s always the little things for me. Even as I imagine rivers of crocuses lining the paths I walk, just one bunch is enough to catch my attention and draw a smile. The complimentary bread at Buttermilk Channel on Wednesday night was a warm popover with honey, which delighted me because I had made oatmeal ones the other morning as a treat. But sometimes it seems that resting my happiness on these things is an avoidance tactic, a way to save myself the disappointment that potentially comes from bigger investments in relationships and skill building. I don’t know. I don’t mind spending time by myself, but as one set of friends settles down to have families and another set aggressively dates, I occasionally feel out of place. On the other hand, it’s nice to share their excitement, especially as they make efforts to understand my own regarding the progressing season. Spring lends itself to such tumult.

The real Harlem Shake

A sweet story that reminds one of the power of the judicial system to be a force of good (or, how a gay couple found their son in a subway station)

A misty english cemetary

Very english spring flowers (that primrose is something else. I’m telling you, if I lived there I would be a crazy primula/galanthus collector. And the helebores… dear lord.)

Probably going to watch this movie tonight (Oma & Bella)

Papercuts

My floral kryptonite

The perfect marble chair

Hoisin glazed brussels sprouts

This film about Vivian Maier has the potential to be amazing

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(two exceptions to this set; there are snowdrops in Morningside but both pictures here are from the Conservatory Garden)

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