There is something special, almost magical, that happens each year in the Northwest that alerts me that Spring has sprung, even if the calendar shows otherwise and that is, the turning of muted hues of chocolate and evergreen to a fluffy shade of cotton-candy pink - known as the birth of the cherry blossom. It happens, it seems, literally overnight! I go to bed to familiar landscape of stick-like trees against the steamy riverbank and then BAM, while catching some zzzz's, a new morning view as I drive down my hill past a perfectly rowed lane of cherry blossom trees...and it is magnificent!
I love these romantic trees so much that, just as a baby bird in flight is called home by her mother, I am summoned back each Spring to visit UW (University of Washington - GO DAWGS) campus, as the sight of the quad in it's pink-blossomed frenzy is spectacular and gives me some kind of warm 'n fuzzy.
Once there, I am always inspired by the glimpse of the UW men's rowing team, appropriately bundled in turtlenecked Under Armor and knit caps, gliding seemingly effortlessly through slight, somehow enticing, fog across glossy Lake Washington. And am always surprised at my curious appeal of aged red-bricked buildings and stone walkways amongst shady lawns, and how they seem to scream out an invitation to "COME SIT FOR AWHILE!" and I just must accept.
Then, almost as sneakily as those pink-poms appeared, they are gone. Shades of lime and kelly appear in their place, barely noticing the previously baby-pink fleurettes now withered, deep magenta, smashed droplings on the ground. Until, in the glory that is singularly Mother Nature, I am enchanted once again in a years turn of the calendar.
