The smell of wet cement drifts on the air to where I sit. I love spring-clean rainstorms that cool the air and dapple the sidewalk with splatters. Everywhere in the road, in the gutters, on the grass and sprinkled along the sidewalk are the crisply-dried petals from the blossoming trees which dance and skitter in the breeze. The tinkling, tickling, tapping sounds like millions of faeries running about with carefree glee. Jazz is on the radio, the breeze through the open office door rifles through the papers and brings the scent of life and love to where I sit.
Once again, I am reminded of how blessed I am to be alive. I feel grateful for this moment...
5 comments:
Hear, hear.
It's lovely, yes?
what is it about skittering cherry blossum? they are awesome and picturesque, whimsical, and timely.
I love them. And my favorite thing about them skittering around is that the blossoming of the Russian Olive trees is just around the corner!!! THEY are my all time favorite smell...
We had a Russian Olive in our front yard when I was growing up. Oh the olive fights we'd have when they plumped up and turned fat and purple. Nasty splats and black eyes.
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