I remember last year. In many senses, I’m still living it, walking the same paths around my parents’ home with my camera.

In some ways, though, the atmosphere is a little different…

The tulip tree in my parents’ yard, which bloomed so brilliantly just a year ago, sprouted beautiful buds. Shortly thereafter, we had a day of shockingly low temperatures.

Most of them frosted over and died. It quickly became a depressing sight, compared to last year’s resplendence.

A few managed to survive and are starting to open, but not enough to brag to my colleagues about. The “excuse me while I take this meeting outside and use it as an excuse to show off my tree” maneuver is something I left behind in 2020.

Alas!

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My oft-walked path, meanwhile, received a serious pruning.

The path is part of an unrealized housing development, a project that has laid dormant since the 2008 financial crash. Rumor has it that its current owner wants to unload. So, the vegetation narrowing the roadway was ripped out, plant by plant, tree by tree.

They left the TV that someone dumped back there untouched though. Figures!

The vegetation was the sight of a lot of my photography, of birds, insects, flowers, or nothing in particular.

It also served as a habitat for a lot of birds and other animals, whose day-to-day has been interrupted.

Such is the price of progress, apparently.

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What else is left?

The spring peepers and birds sing on, and the plants that are left standing grow and bloom.

The forsythia and daffodils are looking nice and yellow.

But I would still prefer a little more pink!