An early morning rain intensifies the colors in Central Park. The green becomes a vivid emerald. The azalea, a dazzling pink.
The stones and tree trunks turn rich gray and black, and the lamplight lingers, dotting the park with touches of gold.
The soft patter muffles the din of the city, and the rain on the lake makes the most tranquil of sounds.
White blossoms lay scattered on the rain-dark pathways, and fall softly on the textured water of the lake. A quiet beauty suffuses the morning; the air is cool and fragrant.
Only a few feet away the city swirls in traffic, pedestrians rushing to work, horns blaring, stop lights and tail lights reflecting on the wet surfaces.
An old stone wall separates 59th Street from Central Park. On one side, the hustle and bustle of New York City. On the other, the serenity of the park, the beauty of nature.
And spring is just beginning.