I always know spring is in the air when I can’t take a walk without stopping several times to sneeze. It’s a small price to pay, though, to see fresh buds giving trees a haze of pale yellow-green and to smell flowers just beginning to open. And now pink trees are everywhere, and I’m chasing them as fast as I can.
This time last year, the pandemic was fresh, the enormity difficult to grasp, nearly unfathomable. At the height of my anxiety, I found solace in trees continuing to blossom, the birds going about their mating business as if nothing were amiss – as if the whole world hadn’t changed overnight.
A year later, the vaccine has changed everything again, but this time toward hope instead of horror. And the trees and birds still carry on as they always do. I still find solace in that.