Sparkles

The formerly bleak courtyard outside my office window turned green overnight. One day it was brown and gravelly and the main attraction was the graffitied shark head on the tool shed, and the next minute, pow! every little twig is sporting chlorophylled jazz hands. The enormous chestnuts waft their allergen-laden pollen into my nostrils in preparation for dropping the spike-armored fruits of their passions on my head later on in the summer; the dandelions have turned one corner of the field into sunny delight; and today even the lone holdout tree has given in and started to bud.

If I have to spend most of my waking hours staring out a window, at least I can look at stuff that's... you know... awake.

In fact, the whole city is waking up and rubbing its eyes and putting out its sidewalk-cafe tables. Tulips balance their heavy heads on impossibly long necks in sidewalk boxes, men walk unashamed down the pedestrian zone in their capri pants. I hate to be trite, but the changing seasons remind me that time is indeed marching on and bringing me that much closer to Home (119 days!).

The window cleaners came yesterday and now it all sparkles.