To all the beautiful flowering trees

Dear Flowering Trees by the Barnard Gates,

Hi. It’s me. The person who walked by you every day in winter and thought you were just some bare, possibly dead sticks planted there to make us reflect on existentialism or gentrification or whatever. But then—overnight, and I do mean literally overnight—you exploded. Like, boom. Like a Disney princess sneezed in your direction and suddenly you’re all pink and frilly and breathtaking and frankly a little smug about it.

Here’s the thing: I’m from LA. Spring doesn’t really happen there. We have two seasons—“fire” and “vaguely chilly”—so forgive me if I wasn’t emotionally prepared for your chaotic seasonal drama. One second I’m wearing three layers and spiraling about daylight savings, the next I’m walking around campus open-mouthed because where the hell did all of these flowers come from? Who gave you the right? How beautiful campus is right now almost makes up for the February (and honestly March) from hell where the wind cut through me like a knife every time I dared step outside. Almost. I wonder whether I would be this appreciative about spring if I hadn’t survived my first East Coast winter.

Also, and this is awkward, but: what is this feeling? My eyes won’t stop leaking, my nose has declared mutiny, and I’ve developed a cough that sounds like a dying Victorian child. Is this… joy? No. It’s allergies. I googled it. You’re stunning and toxic. Classic.

I’ve never had allergies before in my life. Then again, I’ve never experienced spring before. The shock and surprise I felt when I woke up one morning, looked out my dorm window and saw buds? Honest-to-god pink buds on the trees that line that all too familiar red brick pathway? I was honestly beginning to think this whole spring thing was a myth. My head (which feels like a million bees are buzzing in it) begs to differ.

Still, I can’t stay away. I’ve started taking detours just to walk past you. I’ve canceled plans to sit on a bench and stare at your petals like I’m in a perfume ad. Yesterday I skipped class just to take a stroll while the sun was out.  You’ve ruined me, flowering trees. I used to be cool. I used to wear black and not care about plants. Now I’m writing you a love letter and considering buying a floral print. I hope you’re happy.

Love (and Benadryl),

A former LA girl turned springtime simp