I Found My Thrill On Daffodil Hill

I’ve lived in New York a long time. A LONG time. I’ve been in an urban environment pretty much my entire adult life, and there are times, let me tell you, there are times. . .

Thankfully, I have the Brooklyn Botanic Garden for getting away from it all. The BBG has become my happy place, and will remain as such, I’m sure, as long as I live in Brooklyn. I’m glad to report that things aren’t entirely out of whack, seasonally-speaking — only somewhat. A few cherry trees are in bloom, but most just hint at the glory to come. The lilacs and roses are nowhere to be seen, which is good; it’s March, after all. But the daffodils, yes, the daffodils are doing exactly just what they’re meant to do. The magnolias are magnificent; the white star magnolia gave off the most delicious, delicate, spicy scent. Aaahhh! There are camellias and primroses and periwinkles. The bark of a crape-myrtle. Turtles and ducks making the most of an unseasonably peaceful day. I heard a bird call and looked up, up, waaay up to see a spot of vivid orange against the branches and clear blue.

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