Snowstorms may yet whiten fields and gardens, high winds may howl about the trees and chimneys, but the little blue heralds persistently proclaim from the orchard and the garden that the spring procession has begun to move.

This is exactly how falling in love should be in my opinion. It should be scary yet unflinching. We should fear it but know that it's worth the risk and we should throw ourselves full throttle into the darkness with nothing but hope to guide us. And, like learning to ride a bike, once we learn to love we never forget how and it seems we only become

Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring - that delicious commingling of the perfume of arbutus, the odor of pines, and the snow - soaked soil just warming into life.