The Blooming Bush

My bush is blooming again!

Okay, get your head out of the gutter. Outside my bedroom window is a bush that blooms in the spring. As soon as the weather begins to warm up, the green bush bursts with neat, tiny white flowers that spring upward from all along each branch, not just at the end like the rhododendrons do. I’m not a botanist; I don’t know what the tree is called; I don’t know if it is a tree or a bush or a plant. I call it ‘The Wedding Cake Tree’ because when the flowers bloom it looks like it is frosted. When the flowers disappear (I don’t want to say ‘die’ because this process seems more like transition than death), tiny red berries will take their place before the tree returns to all green. Well, it is SEPTEMBER! I suppose the drop in temperatures to the 50s and 60s at night have gotten the tree as confused as I am because the flowers are back! And seeing them made me happy for a minute. Is this an omen? Am I due for a rebirth? Perhaps my time has not past irrevocably.

One funny sidebar about prayers and petitions: I have been calling out for whatever power there might be in the universe to send me some help. So on Sunday, my husband and I went down to the gym I told you about: our latest free trial pass, due to expire on Monday. It was open but since we only have a guest pass, we could not get in unless there was a manager present to open the door and none of the people working out inside seemed inclined to open the door for us. So we left, deciding to take a walk through Fairfield Hills. There, amid the ruins of a state mental hospital and other buildings that no one knows what to do with rose a brand new, pristine mega-building: the Newtown Youth Academy. Was it a school? A private school? A penitentiary? There were a few cars parked in its newly paved parking lot. But it was Sunday, and Labor Day weekend to boot. I suggested we check it out. We approached and the large front doors swung open invitingly. My husband said “We’re trespassing” but I kept going. The Yankee game played from a flat-screen TV across the small lobby; how bad could it be? A snack bar promised a few sweets and other not-necessarily-health-food-only treats. A sign told about spin classes. “Honey, I think it’s a gym!”

A very nice man sat in his office as I walked past the open door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes. What is this?” He graciously took us on a tour. A huge, truly amazing place, it sported an indoor turf track, soccer, field hockey, basketball courts, tennis courts, lockers, showers and a brand new, gleaming full gym for adults! He gave us two free passes to try it out for a week.

Okay, Powers, so you’re listening to the small stuff. What road do I need to wander down by mistake to get my dream job?