mon jardin printemps

What greater cliché is there than “Springtime in Paris”… and yet, all the cynicism in the world cannot dispel this universal sigh!

I am here almost every spring, sometimes in early spring when Paris is just awakening from her wintry lull, and the soft green buds are still so tentative… sometimes in late spring when the sun is warm against bare skin and the heady lilacs scent the air, already filled with a profusion of expectations from this the most expectant of seasons…and from this the most rewarding of cities…