I have been in Westport, CT, sniffing the air trying to discover the source of the most sublime June air, and I’ve narrowed it down to what I think are Locust Trees (thank you, Nancy) about which, wikipedia tells me, William Carlos Williams wrote a poem that I must now read,

as well as some bushes I don’t know the names of.

But there are no Linden Trees out here, and so I was sad. Then, I went back into the city for one night, Monday, June 23, and there it was: the cloud of blissful scent, the freshest essence of spring, the…Linden Trees in bloom!

When I got up to our apartment, there was an urgent phone message from our neighbor Murray alerting us to the glorious occurrence! Linden Tree Day! I think there ought to be naked people (nice looking young ones), cherubs and satyrs out dancing under stars to celebrate. Maybe next year. I’m glad I didn’t miss Linden Tree Day. And I’m glad to get old Salvador Dali off this blog. I bet even Salvador Dali is sick of looking at himself here. Onward and upward. A rare day in June.

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