Central Park is green.
No more pastel buds of spring, no more varying shades of color — just a solid canopy of green.
As I was walking Rory Dog this morning — and gazing upward at all those green leaves — I was reminded of the day I got my very first pair of glasses.
I was in the fourth grade. My teacher Ms. Laws had noticed I was squinting at the chalkboard, and ratted me out to my mom. When the optometrist did the eye exam, it turned out —
I was pretty blind. Who knew?
I wasn’t very excited about getting glasses; I was the first in my class and would be teased for months. But I still remember wearing my new glasses on the ride home from the eye doctor, and staring in wonder up at the trees.
“You can see individual leaves?”