This winter, we had close to three weeks where the temperature never escalated above freezing. The Hudson and the East Rivers both cracked with ice, framing the island. Feeble dustings of industrial salt, only caused brief melts. Snow would just reharden overnight.

The corner bodega had an emergency situation on their hands. The plastic drapings, typical of NYC deli's of their outside produce stands, were ineffectual against the blistering cold. My corner bodega only kept fresh cut flowers out there.

Having to usher in all their flora, they didn't want to discourage potential doghouse boyfriends in need of apology petals. So they slapped up the "flower is inside" sign.

The Asians who run the place obviously have English as a second language. Flower is inside is just short of grammar correct. Yet in their affable mistake they dropped a mind glow on me. I decided to make it Confucius wisdom speak. As in, the flowers, they are inside you. Flower is inside you see.

Picking up my daily supply of Volvic bottled water, crystal quick dissolving Tide detergent to help clear my partially working toilet ( don't ask ), Gala apple or Bosch pear, the occasional Azuki bean ice cream, and Damascus dates and Philly cream cheese. If ya hadn't heard by the by, dates filled with cream cheese and then dunked in sesame seeds is a fantastic sweet tooth snack that ain't too bad for ya. The sign would be there and forced a smirk.

Even with the current rollercoaster weather, Spring is basically upon Gotham. The buds on the Elms and shrubbery that line Thompson Square Park are exploding with baby green might. So the flower is outside now. And I miss my temporary winter sage placard.

As a warrior of the Green Lantern Corps, I would officially like to announce that the flower is indeed inside.