Thursday, February 10, 2011
Yesterday I found myself inexplicably in the depths of the midwinter blues. Despite the lovely weather -- which offered clear, blue skies and mildly warm breezes -- I couldn't shake the feeling of restless melancholy. Blame the writer's block, perhaps.
I dragged myself to my weekly appointment in North Beach, and managed to emerge feeling a bit better. I still had a funky miasma about me, though, one I was sure would plague me for the rest of the day.
Until, I cut through my favorite little park. Though it's only a one-block plot of grass and trees, it's close enough to the water to get a nice salt wind. Even more importantly, it's home to one of the flocks of famous wild parrots.
Normally, they're up high in the eucalyptus trees, chattering and fluttering about. Imagine my surprise, then, when I found them all no more than a foot above me, perched in the flowering cherry blossom trees.
It was a riot of color and song, their vibrant green and red feathers standing out among the delicate pink blossoms. They feasted on the flowers with impunity, oblivious to the crowd they were drawing.
It's amazing what a gorgeous sight like this can do to lighten your mood. Especially when you look around and see that everyone else has the safe goofy, child-like grin on their face. And I do mean everyone: the tired nine-to-fivers, the hipsters, the tourists, and even the too-cool teenagers. Some were whipping out their smart phones and cameras, others were just standing there drinking it all in. We'd look at each other and smile, linked in temporary camaraderie.
It's moments like this that gently remind me that there is beauty in simplicity, and that things don't have to be as complicated as I make them out them to be. I left the park feeling lighter, happier, and 99.9% funk-free.
Thanks, little parrots.