Today, it's the avenue trees that have got me down. It isn't fair, you see--While the street trees have sun nearly the whole day through, and are laden with big pink-and-white buds all ready to burst, the avenue trees are barren. They get no sun, poor dears. Maybe they like it that way, but I don't think they do.
I want to stand next to them, whispering softly about the Lorax, or dig them up, Harold-and-Maude style, and move them street-side, park-side, out of the gloom. Maybe I can capture a little sun in a jar, between my hands and rub it on brave, bloomless trunks all the way up Broadway, down.
Something tells me it might be time to find a community garden. I can't cry on the bus about trees every day.
{Budding Tree, Michelle1121's flickr}
4 maids a-milking:
Oh sweet girly, you need an allotment. Immediately. And window boxes.
oh darling. I've lived here my whole life. They bloom- but in their own time. I rather like that.
You, like the Lorax, should speak for the trees.
Amanda's to-do list, by Cate:
1. Find some green space to share
2. Create some green space of your own (even if it's just a pot of herbs in the kitchen window)
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