Perfumed Lilacs and High-Fiving Trees
Perfumed Lilacs and High-Fiving Trees
Today was the first time I've gone biking in the morning — the proper morning, when the sun is light on your shoulders and the neighborhood is waking up, bursting with birdsong and the not-so-harmonious orchestra of barking dogs — and it was wonderful.
Actually, don't take that word's word for it; nothing can describe how filled I felt wandering the mostly empty streets, feeling as if I was flying.
Everything delighted me. Everything made me throw my head back and laugh and breathe so deep I could smell the earth, the glistening still-wet blades of grass. I pedaled along roads with emerald canopies of pine and oak and who knows what other kinds of trees, and whenever I spied a branch that was just longing to touch the ground, to kiss someone with that faint scent of candle wax and sap, I reached and touched it, giving it a millisecond of love. I lost count of how many trees I did this to.
Also, the lilacs are in bloom now, and I think they're making me delirious, because every time I passed a lilac bush/tree/arch, which was every two seconds, because Vermonters love their May lilacs, I gathered the cone-shaped delights in my fingertips as I went by, or I just took huge breaths, trying to smell their heady perfume.
Summer's almost here, I kept thinking, with an emotional crash of terror and excitement. Summer's almost here.
Come July, I will be a puddle on the floor, too hot (melting actually) to bike in the morning, noon, or afternoon (which I personally think is one of the greatest words that is two words; it makes so much sense! Afternoon = after noon. Excellent job, linguistics.)
So now, in May, I will delight in these numerous delights. I will smell the lilacs and delight. Summer's almost here.
The Voice
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