To the Editor,
I wonder if other readers have noticed that the colors of spring appear more vivid than ever. The random explosions of forsythia more yellow than yellow; the “hosts of golden daffodils” putting Wordsworth’s verse to shame; the magnolia by my barn an impossible cloud of blossoms; while down by the pond across Old Mill Road there
stands a maple tree that I’d never before given special notice to, crowned this year by a veil of tiny red flowers. It’s not the first time – and God willing, it will not be the last
– that mother nature has made me laugh out loud, flipping humanity the bird, as it were, while we, God’s chosen, must continue to spook around with masks over our many
faces, like thieves in the night.
And in another matter altogether. This brought on by last week’s banner headline in the New York Times announcing eight more senseless deaths by a single shooter. Rejoice with me that Wayne LaPierre appears to be in the process of being legally ridden out of town on a rail. I only wish his “right to bear arms” cohort of NRA fanatics could likewise be shamed by having to wear Scarlet Letters – not as Hawthorne had it, merely an A for adulterer, but AH, for you know what.
P S Wood
Old Mill Road