All of my favorite flowering trees around Towson are about at full throttle now. Soon the lavender azaleas around Cook Liberry will open, adding to the spectacle; at this time of year I don't mind walking to work--actually, I love walking to work, but I mean I don't mind it in the sense that I don't care that my destination is work as I'm walking at this time of year, whereas during the winter for example I'll only think about going to work as I walk and how much I hate being at work. Now I walk under two of my favorite flowering trees on the way here each day, and on the way back at dinner, and on the way back here after dinner, and then again on the way home, though that's typically after dark. The entire time I look at those trees and think not of work at all. As I do my standard 3.5 mile runs around Towson I can visit my trees that happen to live in other people's yards and note their progress. This makes me happy.
But still, shit intrudes when all seems well. I got home to grab some chow and there's a phone message from Mommie Dearest, using her concerned Mommie Dearest voice, so I think perhaps something happened to Dad or to Grandpa and I call. The news: A good friend's brother committed suicide last Friday, but was only found today. Not one of those "cry for help" cases, he first took an overdose of pills, then used a knife to cut himself badly, then shot himself in the head. At 46. Just a few months ago their mother had died. And my student assistant is out today because somebody died.
But I still don't feel maudlin. I feel very content and centered today, and I can see the flowering trees far away outside the tiny slit of a window available across the Liberry floor from the Service Desk, and that's about all I need.