Blink and you’ll miss it — along quiet backroads and countryside thoroughfares there’s a magnificent display of natural color happening right now.
Vibrant pink cherry blossoms, beach plums, spicebush, striped maple and crabapple trees, with their distinct brandy-wine blush, hedge the black pavement with gorgeous color. As a child, I recall that a crabapple tree shaded the driveway and, around this time of year, showered the gravel with its petals.
Its canopy greeted me whenever I returned like a familiar friend.
This year, the welcome color of spring seems to be a little more vibrant than usual. Accenting the pastel tones of flowering trees is a tonal array of subtle greens. New vegetation is bursting into the sunlight. Nature seems to be in an abnormally pleasant state of bliss. A few times, I’ve had to pinch myself and remember that it’s May, not October — New England’s penultimate autumnal celebration of natural beauty.
It’s hard to tell whether the unusual vibrancy of the season is actually unique or if the colors are a perceived reality brought about by the reemergence of society from a year of isolation. Do the colors seem brighter because of my jubilant state of mind?
On Thursday, the Centers for Disease Control unexpectedly loosened its guidance, advising that those who’ve been vaccinated needn’t wear masks indoors. After a year of breathing through fabric, it’s a welcome respite. Of course, that’s not to say that precautions shouldn’t be taken (I, for one, intend to take things slowly, and local guidelines take precedence). One year ago, I started this column as a weekly meditation on nature during a time of social upheaval and uncertainty. Stay-at-home orders were falling into place. Gyms were still open at full capacity. Mask-wearing wasn’t yet the norm.
A lot has changed since then.
We’ve all been through a lot. Through the change, nature has remained a constant — a cyclical comfort that is ever a place of solace. One year ago, while the pandemic wasn’t yet realized, the crabapple tree was raining its brandywine petals onto the gravel of my parent’s driveway. One year from now, after summer’s heat, autumn’s glory and the winter frost, it will again color the world with the vibrancy of spring.
Andy Castillo is the features editor of the Greenfield Recorder. He can be reached at acastillo@recorder.com.