In a twist that’s probably to be expected, when the Sunday that I planned to go arrived, I woke up to a gray, rainy gloom-fest outside my window. Pair that with the burned-out state of myself and my would-be festival companions, and it became clear pretty quickly that there would be no blossom gazing in the gardens that day. I found out a few days later that droves of New Yorkers still braved the rain to turn out for the festival. Naturally, I felt a brief but intense twinge of regret and FOMO for not getting myself out to the garden. But! While I may not have had several hours to devote to standing outside in the frigid elements at the festival that Sunday, I did have 20 minutes to spend enjoying the great outdoors between the heavier bursts of rain on my way home from the grocery store.