We do deserve a rest after our record-breaking bad winter. Now the beauty of spring melts us. (The photo above reminded me of Dali's The Persistence of Memory. My favorite local area social media aggregator, Universal Hub, enjoyed my capture and posted it today.)
I feel like I'm emerging myself, not just from winter but from the muffled cocoon of an extended period of middle of the night insomnia that left me functioning on pilot light all day, my muscles and joints nearly crippled from the persistent lack of deep, restful sleep. Hopefully that's mostly over, the third type of supplement I've tried quelling the night sweats that roused me from 3 AM on without also ginning up my energy to pupil-pinning levels throughout the night like the previous two did. Took awhile to work, but they are. Let's hope it continues. There are ads from a motel chain here that show miraculous performances in unlikely scenarios from people who had a good night's sleep at their accommodations. I felt like that on Monday, like I'd slept so well I could show up and do brain surgery. Sleep, the miracle drug.
Meanwhile, the magnolias bloomed in Back Bay in Boston a couple of weekends ago, the first trees to blossom in the spring. Short-lived, by last weekend they were dropping their big petals sloppily across the sidewalks. But last weekend the cherry trees picked up the baton and ran with it. It was a bit chilly over on the Esplanade by the river, but well worth bundling up a bit to enjoy their frilly finery.
And the tulips were up in the Public Garden as well.
So yes, spring has finally come to the Boston area. And then some. Out in the suburbs, away from the city's cooling ocean breezes, temperatures this week have gone beyond springtime to the heat of summer. At least during the day. The evenings still cool delightfully, full of birdsong and, well, pollen. I'll take it over this.