You must believe in spring
Songwriters: A. Bergman / J. Demy / M. Bergman / M. Legrand
When lonely feelings chill
The meadows of your mind
Just think if Winter comes
Can Spring be far behind
Beneath the deepest snows
The secret of a rose
Is merely that it knows
You must believe in Spring
The frozen mountain dreams
Of April’s melting streams
How crystal clear it seems
You must believe in Spring
Anthony Dominick Benedetto, better known as Tony Bennett (born August 3, 1926), is an Italian-American singer of popular music, standards, show tunes, and jazz. Bennett is also a serious and accomplished painter, having created works—under the name Anthony Benedetto—that are on permanent public display in several institutions. He is the founder of the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts in New York City.
I went to the pool late this afternoon. I had until then avoided the sun today, a predominantly wasted precaution at this stage of my 6-month daily and progressive cutaneous facial damage. It was time for a pre-dinner swim; some moderate stimulation and ceremonial purification. I had had my hair cut earlier this morning, the final act (after my mani/pedi yesterday) of cosmetic preparation for the transition from Key Largo to Almonte, from winter to spring. As though to underscore the impending occasion, just minutes before setting off to Cindy’s Hair Place, an anesthesiologist telephoned to arrange an appointment precedent to my upcoming knee surgery.
Upon my arrival at the pool a woman with whom I have spoken before (I vaguely recognized her but as usual couldn’t recall her name) approached me to chat. She was wearing a diaphanous garment atop her swimsuit. Her long fingernails were painted a startling turquoise, echoing her sartorial reversal of fortune. She spoke exuberantly, as though we had a history of familiarity, no doubt inspired by a prior animated exchange. She asked if I were packed. To which I succinctly replied, “We leave on Sunday”; it was the first time I had publicly uttered the moderately isolating proximity.
This allusion was followed by an indifferent discussion of the weather in the northern reaches of the United States of America and nearby Canada. I confessed I hadn’t accumulated much intelligence of the northern weather other than that throughout the winter it had apparently been mercurial, one day having to go to church through the steeple, the next followed by rain. She concurred it had been an uncommonly mild winter, suggesting a result of climate change. Which I accepted. She then begged off.
The few other people still lingering under the pergola began packing up to leave. One gentleman however joined me in the pool where we briefly chatted. He winters here for one month and for three months at Cape Coral (on the Gulf of Mexico side nearby Sanibel Island) where he and his wife have a vacation home. His primary residence is in Catskill, NY where he grew up. His distinguishing feature to me was that when he was 16 years of age he and other friends rode their motorcycles to attend the rock ‘n roll festival at nearby Woodstock, NY. It helps that we “of an age” needn’t expatiate upon such remote historic events. Nor did I enquire about nefarious combustibles or psychedelic drugs, much less skinny dippy in the nearby pond or possible lascivious activity so often acquainted with the “love in”.
Woodstock Music and Art Fair, commonly referred to as Woodstock, was a music festival held during August 15–18, 1969, on Max Yasgur’s dairy farm in Bethel, New York, United States, 40 miles (65 km) southwest of the town of Woodstock. Billed as “an Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music” and alternatively referred to as the Woodstock Rock Festival, it attracted an audience of more than 400,000 attendees.Thirty-two acts performed outdoors despite sporadic rain. It was one of the largest music festivals held in history.
Another less romantic but nonetheless intriguing account arising today was the report of another woman by the pool that the whirling helicopter above the Overseas Highway earlier this afternoon was part of the annual inspection of electrical connections conducted before the anticipated hurricane season. This, combined with the diminishing numbers here in Buttonwood Bay, has encouraged our imminent departure.