A Very Nice Day

In class we had to read “Spring in Fialta” by Nabakov and then had to write something mimicking the language. We had to describe a location using details that felt vivid and fresh, so I had to pick a place that makes me feel a lot when I think about it. In the end, I chose Valdosta- with its auburn pine needles and green puddles of pollen- but I could have written about Bronxville. It got me thinking about how badly I want it to be Spring in Bronxville again when I can hang around campus and downtown, enjoying the sun, preferably without a mask. 

The mask part didn’t happen, but since it was a brisk 66 degrees a few days ago, I roamed the campus, mostly listening to Prince and taking in the start of Spring. I did this at the request of my Italian conversationalist, MariaGrazie, who probably thinks that I’m depressed and suggested that I go for a walk around campus, so that I could feel a little less stale and break up the monotony. This came after she asked me, in Italian, what I’d done recently, and all I could say was that I finished a Stephen King book two days ago.

Me with a fabulous book, on facetime with my mother

So I went for my little walk.

The morning of, I had my Italian conversation and a routine COVID test, which came back as a much-anticipated negative. I’m testing negative and staying positive. Following that happy news, I mulled things over in the middle of campus, before making the hike back up to my far-off dorm rooms. 

The sky was a perfect blue without a cloud in sight. Everything was in bloom and just to prove it, I took photos. I present to you, Spring at Sarah Lawrence College:

This tree:

This tree:

This other tree:

Some billowy white flowers in front of a sky that is Easter Egg blue (on a tree):

The sad thing is, that because I’ve never seen flowers like this in real life, up until now, all I could think of was “Daisy perfume” by Marc Jacobs.

Me kicking my legs up, as I sit near the main road:

Please excuse me while I take a load off.

Tulips:

Me sitting amongst the tulips:

In doing so, I was sitting in front of Westlands, the beautifully-classic, and probably deeply-haunted building that the founder of our college supposedly shoved a woman down the stairs in. We’ve promptly named the dead maid, Gertrude, so much so that if you google search it, her name will come up as Gertrude, even though that wasn’t her real name. This might be the wrong time to mention that I want to live in Westlands if I ever get the chance.

Other planted flowers that I don’t know the name of:

This scene, which might as well have been taken out of a rom com:

Me, climbing up on these high, rocky cliffs that border the campus, that students are allowed to sit on:

There are some nice little picnic chairs up on top, which I wasn’t aware of and sat there reading my book, pleasantly-alone.

Proof that I did that in heels: 

The book that I read from atop the cliffs:

I read “Lovely War” by Julie Berry, which ended up being the perfect book for reading in this weather, with it being a slightly seductive story about the gods and goddesses that takes place in the 40s. There was even a reference in it to the Ancient Greek poet that I submitted an essay on yesterday. 

A rare pic of me, outside, not wearing a mask, because I was eating my lunch and sipping iced tea:

Some tiny sprigs of something that are growing out in front of the library:

A few photos of the streets, taken at the side of the campus, that make Bronxville look like Hobbitown:

This oh-so-sexy pergola that always has withered vines on it, regardless of the season:

In conclusion, Spring is a time of rebirth and new life, so naturally it is the time to walk around, blowing away the cobwebs in my mind. The campus seems to be reborn too, not just with flowers and trees, but with people giving tours to parents and potential new students, who are just as amazed as I am at the beauty. We’re making way for the next group of students. 

The word for Spring in Italian is “primavera,” which sounds so much more resplendent and exuberant.  

I suppose if you were to say “Happy Spring” in Italian it would probably be “buon Primavera” (don’t quote me on that).

So buon primavera, or whatever it is supposed to be. 

And Happy Spring!

Love, The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

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