There are days when I crave a bigger patch of nature than the lovely City Hall Park outside my window. I need miles of woods to walk in, towering trees to keep me company, and birdsong to remind me to stop the mindless chatter and listen, deeply listen. I found 250 acres of just such a place yesterday at the New York Botanical Garden.
Mary and Polly, friends from years past and miles apart, had traveled to New York for a brief 2-day reunion. As the three of us added possibilities to an already lengthy list, springtime in the Botanical Garden continued to rise to the top. The Garden's website lured us towards the Bronx. . . "Flowering Cherries - the delicate pink and white blossoms of more than 200 flowering cherries beckon you to take a peaceful April stroll." As we rumbled through 16 subway stations, then walked 5 to 6 blocks from the Bedford Park station to the Garden's entrance, our anticipation could not prepare us for the reality inside the gate.
Within seconds of entering, the collective din of urban life simply. . . disappeared. A heaviness I didn't know I was carrying, left as I crossed the threshold, replaced by an overwhelming urge to breathe to the bottom on my lungs.
A waiting tram escorted us ---
through crabapple collections
under greening towers
around "Daffodil Valley"
past inviting perches
Every scene as joyful as the next.
Then climbing a gradually sloping hill, we crested among cherry blossoms.
We left the tram to walk among them, to linger in the smell of freshly cut grass, to extend the moment.
The fortunate one of the trio living in New York, I can return to see the azaleas and lilacs blooming in a week or so and walk, again, along the paths and sit among the new growth. And think, gratefully, of good friends. . .
Twylla, Mary and Polly
No comments:
Post a Comment