I think it's finally spring in New Jersey. Our weather has been a little schizophrenic, we've gone from 50's to 80's and back d0wn. More than once. But I think it might finally be time to actually put away the long sleeves.
As you may have gathered, I did not grow up in New Jersey. As a consequence, I appreciate the glory and beauty of the season that natives may overlook.
[What, New Jersey is beautiful? The armpit of America? THAT New Jersey? Oh yes.]
While there are areas of New Jersey that are...aesthetically challenged...my little corner of suburbia is really quite gorgeous. We have trees. And more trees. And even more trees. And bushes and wildlife (no, really!) and rolling hills and lovely lakes...
But the thing that pushes me over the edge is the spring flowers. To see a forest of green and then a cloud of white dogwood lightly floating in it is really not something words can convey. And there is rhododendron, azalea, and the early harbinger, forsythia, among others I don't know the names of. And of course cherry trees and apple trees and REDBUD (wow! It's SO pink!).
I grew up with sweeping vistas, real mountains, and trees only where people planted them. Sure, there were flowering bushes, but really only where they were carefully nurtured. Here, there are volunteer dogwoods sprinkled through the woods. Somehow, you don't get that "It's Spring!" feeling in the same way when you're not surrounded by trees. First, there's the faintest flush of green, then you realize the woods have a green haze that's spreading, and then one day you notice actual leaves, and suddenly everything has leafed out and you can't see through the trees anymore.
I don't know that I had ever seen so much green, until I moved here. Wow!