You're as green as the season that quickens the breeze
Because of the geography of my ENT appointment this afternoon,
spatch and I walked around the Arboretum afterward. "I love dead gardens," I said as we threaded among the winter-dry clumps and sticks of serviceberry and crabapples and hellebores and whitebeam and roses. "They look like T. S. Eliot."

A parallelogram of sky through the cork tree.

I was enchanted with the peacock-sheened peeling skin of the paperbark maple.

The cypress knees looked like standing stones and seals at the edge of the ice on Dawson Pond.

A stone was sleeping under the ice like a frog.

Rob took this windblown picture of me talking to one of the cork trees in memory of the thirty-year-fallen exemplar of my childhood, now one of the ghost trees of the Arboretum. Thus we learned after we had gotten home that the climbing of trees on the grounds is prohibited nowadays.
The traffic was sticky between the Arborway and Woburn, but we ate our dinner of roast beef sandwiches with great satisfaction in the car. It feels nuts to be alive. I'm working on it.

A parallelogram of sky through the cork tree.

I was enchanted with the peacock-sheened peeling skin of the paperbark maple.

The cypress knees looked like standing stones and seals at the edge of the ice on Dawson Pond.

A stone was sleeping under the ice like a frog.

Rob took this windblown picture of me talking to one of the cork trees in memory of the thirty-year-fallen exemplar of my childhood, now one of the ghost trees of the Arboretum. Thus we learned after we had gotten home that the climbing of trees on the grounds is prohibited nowadays.
The traffic was sticky between the Arborway and Woburn, but we ate our dinner of roast beef sandwiches with great satisfaction in the car. It feels nuts to be alive. I'm working on it.

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Thank you!