As the sun begins its gentle descent over Richmond Hill, casting the sky in hues of apricot and lavender, Sussex Park transforms into a canvas of fleeting springtime wonder. This is the hour when the air feels softer, the world slows its pace, and the cherry trees—oh, the cherry trees—step into their starring role. Their blossoms burst open in clusters of pale pink and ivory, like delicate clouds caught mid-float, inviting you to wander beneath their boughs and breathe in the sweet, almost vanilla-like fragrance that lingers in the breeze. The park hums with a quiet joy. Young couples, hand in hand, weave between the trees, their laughter mingling with the click of smartphone cameras. They pause to pose beneath branches heavy with blooms, stealing glances and grinning as petals drift like confetti around them. One pair adjusts a scarf for a golden-hour selfie; another chases the perfect angle where light filters through the blossoms like stained glass. It’s as if the trees themselves ...
Grandpa David 's reflections, healthy aging, family, and life lessons.