summer to spring

I thought returning in May I’d be back in Armenia for the summer.  That assumption held true in the capital, where the lowland climate heats up much more quickly than up north.  Upon my return, while waiting to see the doctors, I spent an entire day sitting in a park around a man-made pond near Yerevan’s opera house.  The slopes of grass between the pond and the surrounding cafes is home to three or four trees.  I sat in the shade of one and devoured a few hundred pages of Irving’s The World According to Garp, moving a few times…

oh, buds on trees!

A couple of days ago, I saw something discarded, stopped, pulled out the camera and took a lot of pictures.  I think for some reason I felt just like that umbrella.  Maybe you can see what I mean: I am tired of having to think so much about how and how much I can walk.  I hate counting the blocks and wondering if I can make it to the grocery store and back on my own.  I don’t want to feel so useless. But, seasons pass in years, as they do in months, days, minutes, and now I am feeling…