When I lived in NYC full time, in mid-March I would always begin looking for the first signs of Spring in Central Park.  I'd inspect the buds on the trees that were still closed up tight, afraid to come out too soon just in case there was a winter backlash.  I'd scour the ground for the first signs of the green shoots that would herald the coming of yellow daffodils that would soon cover the entirety of the park.  All of this would usually happen in late March.

On this visit to NYC, I thought that I might miss that opening of Spring.  I thought perhaps I was here just a bit too early to be a part of the event.  However, yesterday as I walked into the edge of  Central Park, there they were.  The first flowers, purple, white and yellow, were all peeking up through the ground.  They were just barely visible, but the warm temperatures this week and the abundant amount of sunshine must have coaxed them out early.  Encouraged, I looked at the trees a bit more closely and, yes, a few of them had released their grip on the tight fibrous shell of their enclosure.  At first glance, Central Park is not yet in bloom, and talking with friends, there is skepticism that Spring has actually arrived (and I suppose hard to believe after such a brutal East Coast winter).  Yet, there they are, the first messengers of things to come.  I am grateful to be a part of those first indicators of a City that truly comes alive in Spring.  I wasn't too early to experience it.  

What comes next is equally as interesting.  The next thing to blossom will be the inhabitants of the City.  When they safely feel that Winter is truly over, Central Park will be filled with activity, gratitude, and a distinct sense of freedom.  I may start that a bit early, also.