Spring at Regent's Park

I finally get some respite from academic writing. Even though travelling away from London seems too late an option now, I enjoyed a wonderful afternoon at Regent's Park in Central London last Sunday.  

It's amazing when Spring arrives in a gloomy city when the skies metamorphose into azure blue. Taking a leisurely stroll in the park, you can smell the scents of different blossoms in the breeze. It feels like a soft, gentle whisk of a magic wand from a dream. Everything transforms to vivid technicolour and you are now a visitor at an art museum of English watercolour paintings suddenly come alive.  

You pause and wonder at the breathtaking scenery. Had the snowstorms during the passing winter nothing but someone else's imagination?

Even the dog seems to be contemplating the beauty of spring. 

 A picnic with loved ones on a lazy afternoon under cherry blossoms. 

 

 

I remember the springs I experienced in Beijing. Though beautiful, they were too transient, almost like a fleeting cloud. Before the blossoming trees could even attain full bloom, the dry, harsh gales from the northen plains would strip them of their colourful outfits. Summer would hurriedly arrive, besieging the city with warm, dry spells. In no time, we would drown in humid, hot weather. The dampness which Beijing lacks during spring is what sustains the long-lasting blossoms in London.