The days are getting longer and breezy furrows are lighting kindred spirits off yonder. I write to you as the perfume of lavender sets the air. I sit here in the open fields, luminous and stretching unto the golden beams of the horizon. Whatever blossoms, withers and it is the transience that maddens us about the posies. I sit here and see you in my daydreams. The season is blooming. Lilacs and violets. Dandelions and peonies. The fleeting is here to stay for some time. Little flowers will tug at our hearts, airy cottons will flutter in the winds.