Tulips

The tulips are gone in Chicago. When in bloom, they line the Magnificent Mile, the Gold Coast, and the avenues around the financial district in their granite cases and shout for all who have eyes that spring is here. However, their job as heralds quickly gave way to death and now they stand, without bloom, like skeletons in marble sarcophaguses. It might've been the recent storms with pelting rains and volatile winds but it also could've been just their time. The pansies, which previously balanced the tulips height in perfect counterpoint, now call to mind forlorn dogs waiting for their masters to return, not knowing they cannot. Strange how a simple flower box can come to this.

A new hotel this week due to a failure to book the previous one and the perfect storm of a food service convention. As a result: a longer walk along the north shore and shopping district and a new walking pattern.

One, two, three, four, five:
The walking mantra. Now; primed.
Two, three, five, seven.