Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad I'm gone. And yet - maybe not now, but soon the landscape will explode with fragrance and color - perfumed air from flowering crabapple dressed in bridal white. Yellow jonquils sprout up wild along MacArthur Woods - purple crocus tries to keep up like a little brother. Rainbows of tulips on parade on Michigan Avenue. I remember waiting at Deerfield station for the next outbound home - my favorite station on the commuter line. Crabapple blossoms plucked by the breeze, caught in my hair, I savored the scent. 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'd wait - then "all aboard" in hopes of a window seat to enjoy the view. Riding towards home, I'd trade the book in favor of the scenery - the route slicing its way through Middlefork Savanna full of trees still bare enough to see deer between the branches staring me down as I intrude on their serenity. My favorite bridge appeared just before I'd reach Libertyville station, beautiful and quietly arched over a small fork of the Des Plaines, the same white blossoms gracefully skittered across the wooden walkway - Spring in Chicagoland.