Today was a beautiful spring day, but not in the usual dazzling way we usually think of spring. A light rain fell and left droplets of water on all the flowers and foliage, rendering the entire landscape soft and shimmering. The grass and new leaves on the trees turned an intense green that I find deeply comforting. The Katsura tree stood stunningly beautiful in the rain, its enormous trunk looking so imposing and majestic while tiny heart-shaped chartreuse leaves cling delicately to its spreading branches. It made me think of Dad, who always stood so solidly to support his large clan, holding onto to everyone near and far. A chatty cardinal, a smear of bright red against the dull sky, hovered in the trees above me the whole morning while I worked in the rose garden at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. A group of kindergardeners on  a school trip stopped and said hello to me while I was pruning the roses. Their bright smiling faces were irresistibly cheerful. Tourists came to ask about the cherry blossoms. MaryAnn spotted a kinglet and a hermit thrush flitting about the trees. I've really come to  love this little spot of earth, a wonderful institution that serves the community in so many ways, a perfect example of Jean Nouvel's dictum for urban life, "un accès aux mêmes bonheurs urbains."  I think I could be happy spending every day there. I am not sure what it is exactly, but I have a great sense of well being the minute I step onto the grounds at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I feel protected in its space, a calm island of greenery amidst a churning sea of life in New York City. I have found consolation in the ever moving life cycle in the plants, with spring returning as surely as winter waits in the distance. The leaves fall and the flowers bloom each in their own time, just as I am in the autumn of my life and Lily is blossoming each day. 

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