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city willows MONDAY, APRIL 18, 2011

I had visions of going out to the beach near my parents’ home to find Pussy Willows this spring. Jeffrey and I would sit in the sand, soaking up miles of undisturbed shoreline stretching out before us, while our girls discovered the fuzzy buds, growing in their secret spot along the secluded stream. But before I made time to go out hunting for Pussy Willows, they found me. We were taking an evening walk, along a familiar river trail - the route we follow to the farmer’s market on summer Saturdays; the path the girls and I take to go downtown to look for a pair of new boots; the way Jeffrey and I go when we are on a treasured dinner date. The river trail has always been our way to somewhere - not a destination in and of itself. But on this particular evening, I spotted a cluster of Pussy Willows, silhouetted against the sky, growing right along our trail. And I lingered on that familiar path, marveling at the fuzzy catkins growing there, in the heart of downtown. The City Willows are a metaphor for urban beauty in my eyes - not something I go out looking for, but something all the more stunning for its unexpected grace amidst the bustle of city life.



Amabellen Blog Book 2011