I just read an excellent (as always)
Verlyn Klinkenborg editorial in The New York Times, my attempt to carry on a favorite Sunday
morning ritual, even though it is truly
very
early Sunday morning in New York, too early even for the paper to be printed,
let alone delivered and sitting on my kitchen table. He writes about shad and
how they are likely going to start running this week. Despite living in a beautiful,
perpetually-flowering place, I find myself missing the initial rush of spring
blooms this year. Seasonal shifts are subtler here (with the exception of RAIN
or NOT) and I find myself yearning for the binary shifts of home. Klinkenborg
talks about all the new growth that will be appearing in the coming weeks; ramps,
nettles and morels, but I’m struck most by the shad, plunging through the rivers, “following
a vernal instinct that points directly upstream.”
There is something comforting in this mad rush.
I can’t help but take this as inspiration to push against
the currents and simply move. I want
to follow the shad’s example and find strength to forge onwards, in the face of
inevitable, unavoidable opposing force.
