The locust trees are in bloom today. That's the black locust, Robinia pseudoacacia, one of the last trees to bloom. In eastern Kentucky, where the tree is plentiful, those delicate white blossoms perfume the countryside, and it is by their appearance that I know that spring has well and truly arrived.
Duty has be editing copy for the forthcoming Sun Magazine issue commemorating the paper's 175th anniversary (I got to edit Elizabeth Large!), reading proof, writing headlines, and performing all those other copy editing duties in a large room with few windows and canned air on a day the locust trees are in bloom.
Tell me where you would rather be on such a spring day.
If I were back on the family farm outside Elizaville, I would be sitting in a chair in the yard, watching the afternoon light play over the hillsides and smelling that locust perfume. It's about julep time, too.
If I were flush, I might be back in New Orleans, methodically working my way through the menu at the Commander's Palace.
If I were abandoning myself to an editor's fantasies, I would be on a tour of the crypts at Merriam-Webster conducted by Peter Sokolowski, followed by cocktails with Kory Stamper. Maybe the reverse. Or sitting down to a couple of pints with Grant Barrett for a prolonged examination of taboo words.
I see that I have very quickly worked my way back indoors, which is the way with editors.
Where would you be, if you had the choice?
Later: Further possibilities that came to mind as I waited for the copy to roll in like a mighty river:
Hitting the fleshpots of Columbus, Ohio, with Mark Allen (@EditorMark).
Inveigling Carol Saller into creating @FakeChicagoStyleboook for Twitter.
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