Hey! I made it to the park, but on crutches. David, who lives in the ashram with us, accompanied me. I couldn’t have done it without him. We sat at a bench bathing in the sun. People walked by, many of whom were wearing green. Yes, of course, it’s St. Patrick’s Day and those who take to the green carry the spirit.
David and I were talking and wondering if anyone really knows much about him aside from him being some very kindly man from Ireland. “I think he has something to do with a shamrock, or a four-leaf clover,” David said in role-play.
As we sat there, we were acknowledging the pedestrians. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day!” we would say and they would respond favourably. Coincidentally, I had my green crocs on, complements of a nice bhakti yogi from Buenos Aires.
One lady in shades of green had her dog with her in her little green booties. “Wow!” we said in different pitches.
“Oh!” She said with prowess. She reached in her bag and continued, “I even have a green tutu for her,” and then she held it up.
Other than people in green, the park, which was recently laden with silver and white in the form of ice and snow, will soon reveal light greens from the trees. Mind you, some spruce and pine were facing us, but the rest of vegetation are of brown to black tones, holding their own beauty. Thank God for colours that change tones pertaining to season. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been out.