Fading in the south
It was toward the end of November, the time of more frequent bitter winds, the time to find the snow shovels and rock salt, the boots, mittens,scarves, all the gear to keep the winter at bay and the heart's warmth close. It isn't easy in New England, especially since you know what's coming. Yet here I am, literally half a world away, watching with surprised eyes as spring continues its more enthusiastic southern dance.
The wind blows here, too, but gently, and the jacaranda trees show off exuberant flowers, impossibly beautiful. I see the detritus of spring but even while having lost contact with their host, these petals still seem serene.
I was sitting on a bench surrounded by traffic, noticing these quiet, surrendered petals. This urban world has much in common with my home, yet it is mysteriously, unidentifiably different, unique - slower, more open. I'm glad to have been there...
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