Taking it on foot.

When I left my apartment this morning, it was cool but not cold, and damp but not wet. There wasn't any real alert that it'd switched over from March, but that came in its own time. Specifically, by midafternoon.

Two weeks ago it was orchids; this week it was magnolias and cherry blossoms. I got off at the 50th street stop, thinking I'd do an errand and head right back onto the subway, but then I saw how close I was to Central Park and decided to walk uptown the whole way. It was the right call. As I was heading up, the sun broke through the clouds, so by the time I got to the park, there was enough sky to not feel any wintertime want for it.

The trees weren't in peak blossom, such as it's measured by hashtags and official botanic garden websites, but they were the first I've seen in full and proper bloom. Not just buds or tender petals. There were sparrows singing from the branches, in between the flowers bigger than they were. Pigeons were taking outdoor baths in big puddles, fluffing up and looking pleased. I saw other birds flitting around and watched them gather grasses and twigs for their nests, tucked up high and hidden unless you saw the bird flying right there. The grasses haven't yet covered the ground, but there's steady encroachment speaking well to May. Sometimes April has blizzards to show she doesn't care, and sometimes she's generous with herself.

I zigged and zagged through the park and up the blocks, taking in the warm air on my arms. I did my errands and then some, and I came out of it feeling ready - if not eager - to take on some work ahead. Whether this will continue into tomorrow remains to be seen. But today, at least, gives me hope it might.