One morning a few weeks ago, I walked out to the bus stop, past the trees all a-blossom, and realized that I have seen a full cycle of seasons at that bus stop. When, a year ago, I started the job I'm doing now, the trees were just beginning to flower. I walked to the bus, or ran for it sometimes, over a gentle layer of petals. In the fall, I walked through brown leaves, crunchy under my feet, and then damp and plastered against the sidewalk.
The branches are heavy now with rich green leaves, the sun glowing on them as it rises above the nearest tall building. I realized this morning, standing out in that eager sunshine, how comparably few beautiful days I have stood out there, and how many, many mornings I have waited under the clouds, in the rain. But now the best time of the year is coming, the three months of almost constant sunshine, of warm days and cool nights, of everyone sitting outside at restaurants, of hiking on the weekends, of far more sunlight than night. I'm glad to be here for it.
The branches are heavy now with rich green leaves, the sun glowing on them as it rises above the nearest tall building. I realized this morning, standing out in that eager sunshine, how comparably few beautiful days I have stood out there, and how many, many mornings I have waited under the clouds, in the rain. But now the best time of the year is coming, the three months of almost constant sunshine, of warm days and cool nights, of everyone sitting outside at restaurants, of hiking on the weekends, of far more sunlight than night. I'm glad to be here for it.
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