hazy

No offence to Nat King Cole, but it is not the haziness of summer that I applaud, but the chilled haziness of a day like today, with cool air that is framed by the unusual lime of new tree leaves and the otherworldly presence of pink and white trees.

This day, this weather is ephemeral. We see it almost as fast as we would looking at a painting in the fourth gallery we might visit in an art museum. Only memory will keep any form of it, imperfect memory.

I drove up Meridian this afternoon, the main street through Indy, past the old mansions dotted with every blooming spring plant and bulb. No wreck. I tried to be a good driver. It was hard.