Spring is finally making footholds in the landscape. The sun lingers until well after dinnertime. That she is making a showing at all is a cause for verdant frolicking.

Snarky reached for Nefertiti this morning. To her logical mind this is because the imp happens by trick of alphabetical organization to fall smack in the middle-front of her ammo box.

But her superstitious hindbrain suspects that her hand was guided there to bring her delicate flowers and sweet-skin confidence in order to make it through this day of waiting.

She, in some small way, wanted to smell like spring. And Nefertiti is one of the few scents that approximates this effect. The rest of her collection speaks of winter's dead hibernations, autumn's angsty decay. But this? This is hope and joy and faith that life is returning.

The air is thick with love making. Sap rises, tender buds unfurl. She waits.