not exactly the get up i was donning in yesterday’s torrential, power-outing, tree-uprooting, car washing {graçias}, patio furniture tossing {non-graçias} spring storm. but i do love a nice deluge.

and such a grand shower! ushering in spring, my favorite season.

buds, both in flower and human form, are ripe to bloom after a cold, tear-stricken winter. i thought to myself as the rain rattled the windows, nature is ensuring an extra pretty bloom, one last heavy douse of drink to give our branches and petals steadfast length and technicolor hue.

as a young girl, whenever i found myself with pocket of money: check from grandma or an easter egg from dad, instead of spending it down at the liquor store on powdery fun-dip or on the requisite green tongue inducing apple jolly ranchers, i’d make my way over to crabtree & evelyn for a bottle of spring rain bubble bath and shampoo.

i was obsessed with the fragrance: tea rose, lily of the valley and peony heavy. spring rain is one whiff into a jane austen countryside of bonnets and flirtatious romp. although, at 9 years old, i was more ramona and beezus rather than marianne and elinor, i understood the ability to transport and detach.

fantasy. make-believe. checking out.

spring rain let me escape to butterfly fields and family meals not eaten at a counter for 1. there was a lot going on in my house that required fantasy.

every so often i’ll stumble in to a crabtree & evelyn store to smell spring rain and summer hill {what i’d move onto in june}. the scent doesn’t appeal to me now so much. a little too strong, with too many chemicals. but i always sample the lotion. it reminds the candy store is open for business.

life is good. even the stuff that leaves a mark. i’m living my fantasy now.