The air is crisp and smells of wet earth.
I can heart the snap of breaking wood behind the window - someone is stealing the cherry blossom branches.
Spring is a time of thaw, of a forest slowly coming to life.
of the first spring vegetables and the first longing for summer.
of a vase of tulips that has fallen over on an oak table.
(Eliza Morawska / White Plate)
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