Midori. Green. In the concrete jungle it’s the sweetest of colors. Parks, of course there are parks—acres of parks. And gardens—gardens landscaped to zen-like perfection. But those are givens in the big city. What give me the most delight are the small dabs of nature, the unexpected flashes of midori, scattered throughout the metropolis like some kind of inspired single-chord improvisations in the city’s symphony.
Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty, if only we have the eyes to see them.