Between 6 and 7 PM, Friday night. Tomorrow's Cinco de Mayo, one more in another nation's holiday which, here in NYC at least, provides license for drinking as much as you want, particularly of cerveza and tequila; the temperature's in the low 70's; the sun is shining.
So ... Yes! the streets stream multi-stranded currents of pollen and pheromones. On my way to the wine store two orange and black butterflies fluttered in mating dance before my face. Squirrels chased each other with more focused determination than usual, and favored each other over even food. The flowers, o my lordessa, do they dance and preen and spill come-hither color and aromatics. At least one giant bumble was heeding the call.
I cannot express how much delight I have in the youthful surrender of genuine sap rising and twitterpating, rather than the manufactured dreary posturing of the endless billboards and signage, for soft drinks, chips, jeans, shoes, movies and television. This evening it's good to be alive!
Can there be more of a courting moon than tomorrow's Super Moon?