No, I didn’t run into him, but there’s a song on his first album called “3×5″ that tells of a refusal to attempt to capture on film everything the singer is seeing with his eyes - preferring instead to share the actual views in person.

That song came to mind this evening as I took in some of the warm evening air along some midtown streets I’d yet to really explore and appreciate. I passed houses and yards- well tended and neglected. It was lovely - the evening golden light would never have made it into pixel form correctly, so why bother trying?

If you haven’t been out to enjoy this warm weather, I’m not sure what you’re waiting for. Even if your allergies are acting up, at least take in some of the benefit of the warmer air and blooming plants. There are camellia buses in full bloom, laden with impossibly symetrical, intricately patterned blossoms. There are cool patches on otherwise sunny streets seeping out from dark carports and shady alleys. There is the smell of old wood and history wafting from centry-old houses in Boulevard Park - intriguing, peeling, sagging, or majestically restored, each begging to tell you a story through etched or stained glass windows, or broken, taped panes.

And the gardens! Sublimely geometric. Tangled and wooded. Dotted with art. Marked with artifacts of past lives or passed lives. The flowers, the leaves, the spring renewal literally reaches out for you across the sidewalk and demands attention. Go pay what is due.