our little village

We moved out of the West Village, Manhattan, in November last year, right as the leaves were falling off the trees. In fact, as we made our shuttles back and forth, moving from the city to the suburbs it was pretty much the only time we could really appreciate the incredible scenery, the oversized tri-colored flames that were trees. Quickly it turned to a mild winter, and then, slowly this year, steel dullness set in. Luckily we curled up with our new fireplace in the oversized living room, and we enjoyed our new life. But sometimes when I returned to the city I wondered if it was the right decision to leave. We left mostly to be a tiny bit more immersed in nature, and there we were trekking into the city for some sign of life amidst the invisible half-city/half-nature that is suburbia.



And now its spring. And its blowing my mind. I realize that most likely every human being on the planet who has access to spring, who lives through the winter, probably thinks this same thought. I like that we all physically experience the days growing longer, the warm breezes, the buds on the trees popping out. And while I love the city, I am having an awakening out here in the suburbs. Its the first time in six years that I've not lived enmeshed in the stories of the cities.