Spring Forward

I've always been a huge fan of fall. It's hard not to love a season that turns trees the colors of fire and crisps the air. It is, easily, my favorite time of year.

That said, spring is gaining. The older I get, the better spring gets. The very spiritual significance that underlies the world's resurrection is a beautiful expression of the practical transformation I see going on all around me.

The change is all the more dramatic in an uber-urban environment like Manhattan. There are no fields or hills or horizons here with which to judge the passage of the seasons. One day the canyons of glass and steel are marked with gnarled, organic skeletons and the next their branches are bursting with color and life, birds belt out arias, and human flesh, hidden beneath layers of protective clothing for so many winter months, is suddenly revealed. All of New York seems to awaken, as if from a hibernation, at the exact same moment. We are all drawn from our cold, dark apartments and simultaneously spill into the city's parks as if drawn by powerful, invisible magnets.

As the world is reborn, so am I.