Greenpace

Spring has sashayed into the city, trailing swaths of tulips and unfurling greengold leaves in its wake. Sassy thing, Spring. And I love it. The colors of spring, so incongruous against the gray concrete, laughingly call to New Yorkers to stop a moment, take it in, and be thankful. Winter causes New Yorkers to hold their breath and put up their dukes. Spring entices New Yorkers to saunter and smile slow smiles.

In fact, there is quite an inverse relationship between the temperature and the speed at which New Yorkers walk. Winter is destination only, get there before your eyes freeze open, chastise yourself for not taking the time to find your warm hat before you left the apartment. Spring is taking the extra 60 seconds to point out the crocuses that have pushed through the hard dirt around the tree in the sidewalk (which, let's be honest, have been peed on by hundreds of dogs since the last time they showed their yellow and purple faces. Makes it even more miraculous to see them). Spring is conversations with the front door propped open. Spring is breathing deeply the clean smell that comes after rain. Spring is greenpace.