march

Here she comes!

River Whyless

Strolls through Little Italy

Color spotting

More color spotting

Flowers for friends

Study times at Maman

Planning

Rainy Lower East Side

March is for slipping on jeans with holes in them, for making smoothies, for taking long walks on a Brooklyn Sunday. Spring is deadlocked with winter, but we talk about gardens anyway, spilling the packets of seeds over the table and deciding who will order shears. The men at my favorite falafel shop have their windows open. The cold still bites at my bare ankles, but I’ve put the boots away and have no thoughts of pulling them out again. On an early morning in the West Village, I can hear birds singing. Down by the Ferry, little yellow flowers push their heads out of the dirt. The city is pulsing with anticipation. School will be over in six weeks. I’ve filled my notebook with just a few things. A trip to Asheville, a friend’s wedding, other friends’ visits. Long walks around the city.I’m starting to feel these heart roots wrap themselves around the city, around the strange, angular streets of Brooklyn. Little things have made a big difference: new acquaintances at church, joining our community garden team, reconnecting with old friends. The winter was a lesson in waiting and trusting. Spring is an exercise in resting, in hoping, in releasing control and choosing joy.