Following the restorative mole session, I managed to drag myself to the Botanical gardens to check out the spring blooms. I missed Sakura Matsuri this year, which didn’t make me that sad since the festival is all about having people to share the cherry blossoms with, and I knew how if felt to be alone there. Some of my spring glitches still hadn’t been worked through yet.

Instead of slogging through the crowds feeling lonely, I went to the gardens after the height of the blooms, when I knew he peonies would be in full force while the crowds wouldn’t be. Unfortunately the Saturday I chose was one of very few rain-free weekend days and it was packed.

Following the advice of the Nerd Nite lecturer, I headed to the New York native plant garden to see what I would find there. There among the mulched mounds of New York ground cover were the tri-petaled golden wildflowers that had marked the onset of spring in Dublin. The noise of Flatbush Avenue, muffled by the earthen walls that surround the garden, faded out to allow the peepings and chatterings of robins and other hungry avians to drift through the warm air mottled with sunlight. Alone with my camera I wound through the unstructured paths. The flowers are harder to find on the winding paths back there, but it’s more fun having to make the effort.

I walked out of the iron gates at Empire Boulevard with a conspiratorial glance backwards at the tangled woods. Knowing I’d found some of its hidden flecks of gold and unfurling ferns nudged the corners of my mouth up in a smile.

With my internal power supply of positive thinking running at about 50%, I hunkered down for some long hours at the office that would allow me to escape to the beach for a much-needed rest.

My two goals for the weekend were as follows: eat crabs, preferably soft-shelled and lie on beach. I checked of goal number one the first night in town, serving up a trio of crispity crunchety perfect fried softshells bathed in a fluffy aioli totally worth the flight south. The next two days filled with sleep, sand, and a bit of southern sun acted as a giant reboot for my anxious psyche. I know the summer and its carcinogenic sun want to kill my fair Nordic outer shell, but there’s something wonderful about lying in the sand with closed eyes and letting your senses absorb the essence of the beach.

As M and I drove back up the Eastern Shore on Monday night, like Wall-E, I could hear the soothing “poooong” startup sound and see an accompanying glowing light resetting all my connections and smoothing my circuitry. Let’s hope its enough to last through June.


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