Avar z'mano, batel korbano?
(If the correct time for offering a particular sacrifice has passed, there is no point in offering the sacrifice.)
Before Pesach, I was walking in the city as Spring was settling into town. As I walked briskly past stately homes lining the streets of the E 60's and 70's at Park and Madison, I was composing delightful blog posts in my mind. Posts about the glorious daffodils, those early flowers that herald in the new season, that were nodding their pretty heads at me. Posts about the bounce in my step inspired by the freshness in the air*. Posts about the darling little spring dresses that greeted me at my destination on Madison Avenue.
But, in all the pre-Pesach chaos, I missed the moment and the time for those posts is lost.
Not completely, though. The memories flooded my consciousness today on my daily (okay, I'm on day 3 - but it's been daily since Tuesday) power walk during my lunch break. The weather was beautiful and I was privileged to witness the loveliest scene. I saw a little bird, hopping along the path around a neatly manicured lawn, with a long worm dangling from its beak. I couldn't help but smile.
* For all those snickering suburbanites or (gasp) country bumpkins, I contend that fresh air is relative and even the city's air can take on a certain freshness if one's imagination wills it.