Spring is finally here on the east coast! It has been a long time coming. Usually by the time Easter rolls around, hyacinths daffodils and forsythia are in abundance and the intoxicating smell of spring blossoms fills the air. However, up until three or four days ago, the blossoming cherry and pear trees and other budding beauties kept their little blossoms tightly balled up, with no hint of the explosion of color and aroma to follow.
I got my first hint that Spring was in the hood yesterday as I sat in a particularly boring meeting. I cleverly positioned myself on the side of the table that would have a view of the outdoors. Right outside the window of this second floor conference room sits an immense pear tree. This tree sits right along side the floor to ceiling windows of the conference room. Small puffs of white flowers were bursting out all over the place, seemingly at our feet. If you concentrated hard enough on the tree and not on the meeting, you could almost feel like you were sitting on top of a cotton ball. It was glorious, and way cooler than whatever blobbity-blah we were discussing.
The workplace has a particularly cruel way of harshing Spring’s gig. To view gorgeous flowering trees against a cloudless blue sky while locked in a sweltering conference room filled with nothing but stale, hot air is a tease of monumental proportions. This morning’s workplace “gift” was the overwhelming aroma of manure. I guess they had fertilized the beds in front of the building. The cow dung aura hung in the air like a poison cloud, crushing the smell of any spring buds that might be hanging in the breeze. For some reason, I always get to work just as some olfactory assault is in progress. On any given morning I can arrive to the aroma of the maintenance crew pooping the flower beds, pumping the cesspool or tarring the parking lot. They say timing is everything and I don’t have it.
Luckily for me, spring’s more delightful aromas hit me at the most unexpected place. Last night I headed over to Sears to pickup something that I had ordered (hush, hush on what it was. It was a gift.) and as I walked in the doors of the pick-up area I was bowled over by the fragrance of dogwood blossoms. It was 8:45 at night, the parking lot was poorly lit and the pickup area was dull and dingy, but that smell lifted me up to an amazing high. It’s a smell that transported me back to my childhood, to the time of the year when I’d ride my bike for hours and feel the cool breeze and warm sun simultaneously. That rush of scent, more than anything else, made me feel in my bones that spring was here. I guess I’ll have to clean the house.