“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood
By Rich Lindbloom
And just like that, it’s over. Blink your eyes, and the moment is gone, sequestered away in a cobweb of tangled neurons. It was subtle, beautiful and irrepressible. There is so much going on in such a short window of time. As Edna St. Vincent Millay noted; “April, comes like an idiot, babbling, and strewing flowers.” Indeed, it’s hard to keep up with it all.