What a Difference . . .

. . . a week and 10 minutes makes. Last Monday Prague was displaying her brilliance. She was polishing her reputation. And the timing of my morning put me right in the middle of the crowd of people on their way to work, mostly adults, young to old, looking as though they were wishing for one more day of the weekend.

This Monday is a different scene entirely. Everything is shrouded, the colors are muted, it is cold and raining. And the beauty is different. Hradcany, the Castle District with St. Vitus Cathedral commanding the scene, looks like a stage set behind a gauze curtain. Almost nothing else stands out. It is a backdrop painted in shades of gray with just a bit of black mixed in all the colors. People are, for the most part, jockeying for umbrella space. Instead of ripples and waves, the river is pocked with raindrops. And the red roofs would be shiny with rain if only there were even a glimmer of sunshine.

Then there's the crowd. Ten minutes later means children are on their way to school. No yellow school buses here. Trams are the transportation routes, youngest children accompanied by a parent or an older sibling (with the usual squabbles), others on their own. Lots of waves and air kisses at the tram stops, obvious questions about and admonitions for the day, then greetings and conversations with friends and classmates and the thud of heavy backpacks hitting the floor -- the youthful version of a morning commute.

The walk hasn't change its profile. It has certainly changed its mood. The art gallery is showing a different artist -- even the paintings are somber and muted and command only a quick glance. The scent of the flowering trees in the little park is nearly overpowering. It is as if the clouds are confining it all to one space, making sure I take notice.

Then there is the cobblestone sidewalk. Cobblestones are wonderful and generally well maintained. It is interesting to watch sidewalk "repair." The coarse sand, the selection process -- just the right stone for just the right spot, then the heavy thunk as the whole area is leveled and set. Something I read recently confirmed my musing that cobblestones are healthier, environmentally better than concrete and asphalt -- rain can seep through instead of puddling on top. And the cobblestones passing the park are not ordinary. These are set in a beautiful tricolor design of circles and arcs and ellipses. Today they are nearly screaming "look at me, look at me." And I do.

Prague keeps its sidewalks clean two ways. Small "vans" transport individuals around the commercial/tourist areas to sweep litter regularly. It is deposited in the many trash cans which are emptied regularly by people transported by different small trucks. But then there is the sidewalk Zamboni. It surely isn't sleek and shiny, but it refreshes both the cobblestones and the concrete/asphalt as its sophisticated counterpart refreshes the ice of a hockey game. It is obvious these have been around for years. And they certainly do their job well. Add some rain and it looks as though each stone has been individually polished.

Last week invited lingering, this week encourages pushing forward. Last week kept drawing my eyes up and far away, looking at yet another large scene. This week continually narrows the view, insisting that I watch what's right in front of me and turn inward. Even the silver gray poodle sporting a bright red plaid "jacket" over his premature summer hair cut doesn't linger to enjoy the morning walk.

In her thought provoking novel Open House, one of Elizabeth Berg's characters reminds the reader about knowing this is "a good moment. Mostly you don't know, in this life, you don't know when it's happening. You look back later and say Oh! Well now, that was a good time!." He says he knew it lots of times. "Yes, sir. I've been blessed."

This Monday morning is yet another good moment. I've been blessed!