A Rare Morning

May is nearly half over, the trees and blooms have responded to an early spring after a mild winter, but until this morning the rejuvenatory effects of spring have been hard to find. It has been rainy in New Jersey these past few days. It really seems like weeks since we have seen the sun, but that is an exaggeration.

Those who know me understand that I really enjoy driving, but I abhor traffic. I will go miles out of my way to avoid freeways and congestion. One would have to ask why have I spent most of my life in the northeast or in southern California that being the case, well alas, one goes to where one can get paid. In any event this morning seemed to be an exception.

On my circuitous route to the office I wander past golf courses, over brooks that grow to become the Raritan River, wander through tall stands of maple, ash, hickory and oak, and generally avoid the waking population. There is one point, though along my meanderings where the road crests a ridge. Up there you can see the folding hills stretching off to the northwest and rising up here and there a white church steeple or two. If you didn't know it you'd think you were in Vermont. In any case, this morning that stretch of road was filled with golden sunlight tracing down through leafy branches. A long row of lilac bushes were bending with the weight of their purple blossoms, a barred tailed hawk swept across my field of vision to look for errant field mice and for just a second time stood still. The morning was all it should be, bright, full of promise and breathing a fresh, light air into one's soul.