The trees will soon be naked.
Or as the Poet put it, with far more elegance:
“Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.”
And they will wait patiently.
Until their dignity is restored.
By their magnificent winter coats.
In anticipation of their fancy spring fashion.
So you might enjoy a bit more of the local color.
From a recent walk around the Charles River.
The late bloomers? Oaks.
They were a joy to behold.
Made all the more joyous because the spectacle is so fleeting.
But for now, let’s savor the moment.
As we will delight in the memory.