I open all my windows and doors, blast Bocelli singing con te partiro. Let’s dance around our Maypoles, let the breeze sashay in. Driveway snow has been ferreted. Dogwood blossoms graciously undulate in the yard. I log off my computer. May’s file is alive. I find myself humming, “I’ll see you again whenever spring breaks through again.” At my garden gate, I smear some May dew from a daffodil on my palm and enter.