Bloomers

I must be part plant, because I bloom in the springtime. The sun returns, the warmth returns, and a fizzy joy-I feel it in my chest. My headaches clear. My back straightens. While everyone around me is sneezing from the pollen, I breathe it in, it gives me life. I am reproducing. My cells are multiplying. My great-grandfather was a magnolia saucer. The sun is my caffeine.

It feels more wonderful than normal this year, but perhaps it always feels this way. After a rough winter, a calm spring feels like the first calm spring. Forget last year’s spring. This year. This year, the cherry blossoms stayed in full bloom for two full weeks. This year, I learned about all the flowering trees you can eat. Redbuds, magnolias, violets. I’ve been missing my belated honey locusts, but the redbud makes a nice snack to tide me over, and furthermore, they have no need for branches or twigs; these purple bursts are everywhere, a glorious infestation. Now when I walk around, drinking in the sights, I’m eating it, too. Flowers. Yum. And I learned which wildflowers are invasive, so feel no remorse about mercilessly picking them from Rock Creek Park. I’m nibbling and gathering, nibbling and gathering, and it feels like the right thing to do this spring. Even my sad burgundy ficus, teetering on the verge of death for months, has sprung back to life, with five new leaves in two days. I cut my hair, so the curls are extra-springy again. Spring, you…