This was a gift.
Last year around this time, there was visible snow on the ground underneath the fractured pumpkins and swirling brown leaves.
Walking through the city today felt like June, the Common and Public Garden alive with lovers, mothers and brothers who had to rummage through storage to bring out the shorts, skirts and short-sleeve shirts that had been packed away for the winter.
After a 45-minute wait, an alfresco lunch at Stephanie's arouses the senses, the young and the hip (and those college girls showing some hip) mingling in small groups to the bustling, culinary rhythm. Free-spirited musicians softly strum guitars and blow into their saxophones, revived and energized by the burst of November warmth.
Thanksgiving mittens and Christmas sleighs seems months away as the sailboats multiply and build a city adrift on the Charles. The squirrels pause as if confused by their acorn-burrowing agenda.
Collectively, the city is eased into reality as the sun drops from the sky, splashing onto the brownstones before the clock strikes 5. Dusk sets on the Frisbee players as the small pocket of warmth fades to gray.
Clearly, a gift worth unwrapping and indulging.
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