In our late-winter world – that has been alternately grey, then white, then grey again – there was comfort at the neighborhood cafe. Huddled with Cathy and Anne over soup and wedges of quiche nestled into mounds of tender greens. Thick slices of bread smothered in butter and jam. Mimosas to wash away the gloom. Laughter guarding against the damp.
We looked toward the window, and it was on with the jackets, the hats, the gloves.
At the Volunteer Park Conservatory, we plunged headlong into a world of green, gulping in its color deeply.
Could there be a better sight? Could there be anything better sitting fresh, there to renew your wearied soul?
Room after room of growth to awaken days and spirit alike. Paradise.