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Spring Swings In


It’s Monday following the spring solstice and there’s a definite seasonal swing in the air. The mountain tops still have a coating of white powder from last week’s occasional snow showers, but the ski slopes are rapidly melting down, while the brilliant density of the azure sky insists that it’s carrying a spring, rather than winter, sun across its horizons. Meantime, the cat asks, instead of being forced, to go outside, a blue jay warbles in the fir tree, and down in Phoenicia, birds swarm around in packs as they move back in from the warmer climes down south. Typically, spring in these parts is known as ‘mud season,’ the inevitable byproduct of snowpacks melting down, but the precipitation this year was so low that we might just bypass it and go straight to summer.

For my part, after a crap final day on the slopes, skiing through slush, I celebrate the spring weather – and the promise of a full week or more of same – by running in shorts. After the initial chill, it feels good; I come home with a proper sweat on my brow. I’ve taken the camera with me to try and capture the perfect glisten of sun upon water, the playful interplay of mountains and trees, the gentle appearance of green foliage. But cameras – especially cheap modern digital ones – rarely do nature justice, and I succumb instead to the beat of the iPod and the refreshing thought of being able to stretch down out on the grass rather than inside in the heat. Best of all, before delivering myself to another week of work, I capture on camera the pressure of Monday morning rush hour in the Catskills: no pressure at all.

A spring Monday morning rush hour in the Hills: the snow on the distant mountaintops is on its way out, the summer crowds are not yet here.

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