There is a magnificent magnolia tree in the front yard of a house that faces Ditmars Boulevard a few blocks from my apartment, and every year it explodes with beautiful, plump, delicate blooms and dwarfs the other magnolias around it. Each year, with camera in hand, I make a bee line for this lovely harbinger of spring that denotes the Vernal Equinox is in full swing. Although the tree sits behind a wrought iron fence, it umbrellas out and over the sidewalk and it enables me to get up close and personal with my camera. I’m able to stand right underneath a branch abundant with purple white blossoms and capture them with the sun’s rays illuminating the velvety soft petals.

Walking along the boulevard the bushes of forsythia draw me to them like a magnet, the tiny lemon yellow flowers quivering  in the breeze; the bright color pleasing to behold after four months of cold bare grey. The garden daffodils, egg-yoke yellow and creamy white lift their ruffled heads and petal arms towards the morning sky.  I meander across and down Ditmars, turning off every other street on my left or right, photographing anything  just starting to break free from its protective pod or pushing up out of the ground.  Each tree, shrub and garden I pass has a small colorful botanic sample of  what is yet to come in the next few weeks as the sun moves closer, the days grow longer and the air is filled with the excitement of a new and fragrant season.

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