Nevermind that it was the first night in months that I had to turn on the heat. Nevermind that it’s the first time in weeks that I’ve needed a scarf. Nevermind that despite daylight savings it’s still not quite sunrise at this time. The birds are hungry, the crocuses are gone, and blooms are popping up everywhere. The spring palette alights on every corner, in every measly shrub. Somehow in the midst of this mess it became March, and the flowers are arriving to prove it. You can’t say that doesn’t feel good.

I am still noticing the things that are missing, like the cherry trees that were cut down on the corner of those streets, and a lot of street art that has been recently painted over. But these things grow back, like a bad haircut. But then I remember about the tree they cut down in Volunteer Park a few years ago - it was dead, but beautiful - and then in the wake of a shrine that arose at the stump, a young sapling was planted. And so eventually it too will grow back and I will again be able to take shade under its branches on a hot summer day, painting watercolors to send in the mail.

And the end of my walk my eyes landed on a Guinness sign, and I realized I am to have a day of pinching to look forward to, because alas, I have no green on my person.