New York City, May 12, 2015

★★★★ One more rainy-looking morning once more brightened and dispersed. A bicyclist rolled along in a wide-brimmed hat, bound under the chin with a scarf. The sun came through forcefully enough to prickle the arms. There was nothing but a smooth-sawn oval on the tree trunk where the wreckage of the flowering branch had been. Inside the office, the artificial chill was so grim it was necessary to open a conference-room window to let in the warmth. The afternoon had enough clouds to blunt the heat; for a moment, at commuting time, it seemed necessary to check the overhead dimness for another threat of rain — but there, instead, were blue gaps opening. Uptown the wind was elating, the sky blown clear. An immense purple-gold cloud sailed across the west, with sharp silver contrails emerging behind it like subsidiary fireworks, and then departed. Shut off the air conditioner and open a window, and in a while, shut the window too.