We have reached that time of year when the days are warm and the nights quickly cool. It will take but a week of this before there will be an abundance of buds on all the flowering bushes, and tiny new leaves will cast pale green shade to soften the blue afternoons. Already, the bird song is rampant, and the mornings filled with swift crows. The apple trees have sent out their new shoots, and all the orchard seems blanketed in a red haze. Moss which days ago sprang soft and lush from tree trunks now turns brown and papery as its moisture vanishes into the warm air. This is the time of year when the droning engine of a light plane circling the cloud-flecked sky resonates in my thoughts and emerges as a melancholy desire for unattainable journeys. Though the equinox remains two weeks away, spring has surely arrived.