Spring seems to have taken a detour on its way to Boston this year. Yes, we have been teased with a few perfect days during which everyone mobs the Quad, desperate to get a few square feet of study space on the grass, but for the most part, everything has been gray and wet and cold. And so, even though I have come to accept that this is what it means to live in New England for part of the year, the part of me that is used to having clearly defined seasons looks up at yet another grey sky and can’t help feeling that something is missing.
This feeling was definitely on my mind as I hurried through Copley Square with my head bent down to protect my nose from the gusts of cold wind that are still whistling through the city. So when I passed under the low-hanging branch of a fairly small tree and felt something brush the top of my head, I immediately knew that the chances of it being a fragile spring flower or tiny budding leaf were incredibly low.
I immediately jerked to a halt, panicked that a careless bird had pooped on my head—something that has, in fact, happened to me before—and slowly looked up, certain that my eyes would be met with the dark silhouette of a bird resting a few branches above me.
But instead of a bird, I saw a bright red pom-pom dangling just above my head.
Relieved that I wouldn’t have to rush to find a bathroom or worry about my chances of contracting avian flu, I stepped back and gently poked the pom-pom. As I watched the fluffy bundle of yarn sway back and forth in the wind, I realized that the red pom-pom was just one of dozens of yarn balls that were scattered throughout the branches of the tree. Some big and others rather small, the pom-poms were all the colors of the rainbow and then some. Each one of them stood out vividly against the dull Boston sky, creating pops of color and contrast within the still bare and stick-like branches of the tree.
Confused, I looked around at the other trees in the square, searching their branches for more pom-poms, but they were all empty. I looked back at the pompom tree, searching for some explanation for the fuzzy additions, but, although I found many graffiti masterpieces on the tree’s trunk proclaiming sentiments like J+M FOREVER, I didn’t find a single thing. No signs, no damp flyers scattered on the ground, just dozens upon dozens of pompoms in the tree’s branches.
Later in the day, I was still determined to find an explanation for the unusual blossoming. But, after searching every iteration of ‘pom-pom tree Copley Square’ that I could imagine and finding nothing, I gave up. If I wanted to find an explanation for the pom-pom tree’s existence, it would be up to my own (fairly questionable) deductive skills.
Perhaps the Copley Square pompom tree was created buy someone who, like many of us at this point, was tired of the gray. After what was certainly a long—although not particularly harsh—winter, maybe he or she grew desperate to see some life and color in the world around him or her, and when temperatures dropped back below 50 degrees and drizzle continued pouring from the sky, he or she decided to take action. If spring was hesitant to come of its own accord, perhaps he or she hoped to create a temporary spring in the meantime, and remind Bostonians that, despite what may seem to be perpetual clouds, many sunny days actually are on the horizon.
And even more than the promise of spring, perhaps the creators of the pom-pom tree meant to remind the public of another easily forgotten message: more often than not, you actually do have the power to take matters into your own hands. In the rush of a city, and of a world, where you are just one person amid many, it can be easy to forget that you have more power over your own life than you realize. Rather than letting yourself get caught up in the rush, it is important to take a step back and consider if you actually want to go in the direction you are headed. And maybe for you, that direction is spring.
Featured Image by Madeleine D’Angelo/ Heights Editor
