There are trees on my block whose smell greets me each evening as I come up the stairs from the subway below. I pulled a small flower off and taped it to the wall beside my mirror.
Are you familiar with that stage of a vacation, any vacation, when you suddenly become very aware of the end that is approaching and perhaps you have not accomplished all that you had set out to accomplish? I think I am in that stage...and desperately resisting! How am I feeling melancholy in a place full of Woody Allen in Bryant Park, homeless flutists and sweet trees?