I’ve written before (ad nauseam, you are thinking, no doubt ) about how we wait for spring here in the northeast. So when, as we roll into in what should be the height of that extraordinary but fleeting season, the TV weatherman says: “Until further notice, the forecast is rain,” we know we are in big trouble. The early rhododendrons have come and gone with barely a mention due to inclement weather. Yesterday at work, I swept up pink crab apple petals customers tracked in on their wet feet, and realized that it’s been so cold and damp that I’d failed to take time to enjoy the blossoming trees lining the downtown street. Last night, at dusk, while on an errand with my daughter in weather reminiscent of March, I noticed dogwoods flowering between the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers.
“I’m going out with my camera tomorrow to take pictures of the dogwoods before the rain ruins the display,” I said to my daughter.
“You mean you are just going to park in front of people’s houses with your camera,” my daughter asked. “Isn’t that kind of stalker-ish?”
“Yep.”
This last one is in the back of a house. And it's mine.
