Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm gone. And yet - maybe not now, but soon the landscape will explode with fragrance and color - perfume from the flowering crabapple dressed in bridal white. Yellow jonquils growing wild along the edge of MacArthur Woods - purple crocus trying to keep up like a little brother. Tulips in every color of the rainbow along Michigan Avenue. I remember waiting at Deerfield station for the next outbound home - my favorite station on the train line. Crabapple blossoms plucked by the breeze, caught by my hair, savoring the scent while lost in the latest Boyle bought at the Barnes and Noble two blocks away; trusty, bottomless canvas shopping bag at my feet filled with my "yuppie oatmeal" and Numi tea, I waited. Riding towards home, I traded the book in favor of the scenery - the route slicing its way through Middlefork Savanna with the trees still bare enough to see the deer turn their heads, staring us down as we intrude on their serenity. The bridge - my favorite bridge - just before Libertyville station. So beautiful and quiet, arching over that small fork of the Des Plaines, the same white blossoms gracefully skittering across the wooden walkway - Spring in Chicagoland.