The Rite of Spring

Every spring, like clockwork, we're fortunate to have a bird take us up on the empty nest that sits two feet above our kichen window. And each year, like excited little kids (as opposed to the real excited little kid we have), we watch the process unfold: the sitting on the eggs, the hatching, the feeding, the first flight. (I can't even think about the year when two of the little chicks fell out of the nest. Traumatic.) This morning, mother bird is still sitting on her eggs. I'll keep you posted when they hatch.

I'm not sure what it is about such a simple act of nature that keeps us glued to our window. Downtowwn Washington, a mother duck and her ducklings have kept passerby at the Department of the Treasury all aflutter as well. Their every move--every street crossing-- is cheered on by crowds. And a couple of blocks away, across the Tidal Basin, a million or so folks have just had the pleasure of viewing the cherry blossoms in full bloom.


This past Sunday, I finished photographing an engagement portrait by 7:15 a.m., (as Robert De Niro once famously said, "Get in. Get out. No one gets hurt.") and had Starbucks on my brain, when I saw a Park Police officer closing down my parking lot in advance of the annual Cherry Blossom Ten Miler. Those of us who were trapped in the lot for the next two and a half hours ended up chatting, cheering on the racers, and having a generally splendid time. After all, if you're going to get stuck in a parking lot for a couple of hours, wouldn't you want to be surrounded by cherry blossoms?

Don't worry. I won't turn this into a sappy ode to nature. But I'm sure glad that spring is here.

Now excuse me while I go find my winter coat, 'cause it's freezing here today.



Matt