I was rather sad.
The Spring has sprung. I live in the oldest part of Philadelphia: all red brick, mortar and Macadam.
I would normally be in our parks taking in the Spring. The spirea are about to bloom.
Bridal wreath spirea. Winterthur, Delaware. Late March every year.
I have cracked open a window and am sitting at it. With a book. Waiting for the great virus-god to pass.
I feel much better for the sun and a slight breath of wind. What little I can see and smell.
With the memory of the spirea, of course, about to bloom. There where I used to sit with a book at this time in other years.
Les Persiennes (The Venetian Blinds), Spring 1919, oil on canvas.
Henri Matisse, 1869-1954, French. Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia