The playlist for spring is Vivaldi strings, Louis Armstrong songs and April showers that patter gently on the roof at night. Spring is awe. And ahhhh. It's a newborn baby peeping out of a pastel papoose, eyes as mysterious as eternity. It's a young Beatrix Potter, sketching plein air in the Scottish countryside and, a century later, a mother reading The Tales of Peter Rabbit aloud to sleepy little girls in eyelet nightgowns. It's carrots pulled from a backyard garden and mint that's wintered over, blooming just in time for juleps in cold silver cups to sip while the horses run. Spring is a bakery box of elegant macaroons dressing up an ordinary afternoon and strawberries in a cut crystal bowl. A stylish trench coat is required attire in this, the perfect season for a movie with French subtitles and strolling through the museum garden where resides a cheerful topiary giraffe.
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.