Then I head out for a brief foray and hear the first birds of spring at night...
...and wake up this morning to knowing, just knowing...sure enough; the beds are ready. I clear away leaves, cut down the perennials, and *as I am working* some daffodils poke up. The soil is the right warm; it smells fantastic.
I spend the day working with decomposing material, clearing it away, saying a little thank you for how it protected the live things during this incredible winter. I get a home project done. I finally shower...thinking, of course, that a decision is coming up...
...have been egged on by perfume pals and weather to make the leap...
...thinking...thinking...
...and after mentioning doors #1 and #2, I pick door #3.
En Passant.
And it has been beautiful. I remembered just how beautiful shortly after spritzing (it is a bit odd straight off). And the best part has been how it has haunted me these 5-7 hours since...it famously leaves the wrist after a couple of hours...but it isn't really gone. It apparates in the air just around you, time and again, for hours. You can't put your nose to it...it's gone...but yet, it comes back to you. Beckoning? No, not quite. Nearly embracing. More like a little visit. And gone again.
Perfect. Like glimpses of the spring to come. (And, which will go again.) A bit of a ronde, a dance mimicking the entry of the season.
Today's beautiful weather will not last. But it will be back. More and more so. As such, a reverse of En Passant, which slowly comes back less and less.
What a great cross-fade.
