Sunday afternoon, after the rain (and even a bit of snow), the wind blew, and blew, and the last remnants of winter seemed to be blown away. By the World’s Fair pavilion, the tulips rejoiced, silver linden, white redbud and red crabapple blossomed along the sidewalks, and between the staircases a host of golden daffodils fluttered and danced in the breeze.
Down by Kerth fountain, the wind blew the spray out of the circle of water around the fountain and onto the sidewalk, and the water rushing down the faceted spillway to the reflecting pool by the plaza below, splashed over our feet as we descended from the stone blocks that connect the lower pool with the one above. It was a slow walk down, around, and back up government hill to the pavilion, looking at the trees, shrubs and plantings there and enjoying the interplay of clouds, wind and sun. I gazed and gazed, but little thought, what wealth to me this show had brought. A glorious day, indeed.