A misty may morning...

Last week when I was too busy to write (thanks finals) but not too busy for a few quiet moments of observation and reflection on my way to school/work, I found myself in a tiny patch of green in the brick and concrete city world. (My campus is actually good for this, it may not be large but it is quite peaceful and they do the best they can to make it not oppressive feeling.)

It was early morning after a night of rain, still heavily overcast and misting with a gentle breeze. The moment I stepped off the street and onto the path the smell changed. Damp, fresh, living and lush. The smell of grass and leaves and wet soil and a pervasive flowery scent. I looked around for the source but could not immediately identify it. Even the air felt alive, wet and heavy and cool. It made me feel clean and fresh when I brushed against it, made me blink and see the world anew every few seconds. The colors were fantastic. Not the sun bright greens of a summer afternoon but the darker woodsy greens that you see only when the stalks of grass have been bowed by water and the trees have drunk their fill.

I walked through a gap between two buildings and into another green space. A few tall trees bordered the edge of the park, their leaves not yet full grown, but it was a smallish tree that was the centerpiece. Bright white flowers with pink centers covered every square inch of branch space and stood out in sharp contrast to the deep green of the moss growing on the trunk. The rain had knocked even more blossoms loose and scattered them in a wide but perfect circle around the base of the tree. Here was the source of the flowery scent.

The tree, the grass, the flowers combined to make a magical moment. I both wished for and was glad I did not have my camera. It was a once in a lifetime image, but perhaps one of those best burned into my memory rather than film. Being forced to hold on and imagine will keep the image from a sad demise in a shoe box or computer file. Perhaps this is selfish, keeping the moment for myself?

The moment disappeared with the mist and the morning. The flowers are gone now, replaced with leaves that rustle in the wind but don't smell nearly as nice. I have my memory though, and finally, a moment to share it.

Imagine with me.