Ah, spring is here, at last. I've survived another New York winter, my 55th winter, to be exact. But it's still March, so I have to temper my joy with some caution. As the old folks would say of a person, without warning, March may decide to show its ass, hitting us with multiple inches of snow.
So for now, on the first day of spring, I can look forward to sunny days, the return of greenery, the buzzing and crawling of insects, and sitting for hours in Central Park with a good book in one hand and a cold, refreshing drink in the other.
