I appreciate the creative incubation tank proffered by winter, I really do, but now that it’s officially March I find myself eying the floral dresses in my closet with a longing I usually reserve for chocolate-lemon tarts, Helena Rubenstein’s jewels, and certain exes who just aren’t good for me. Yesterday it snowed yet again, and to console myself I bought some tulips buds; their nascence matched my mood. Today they popped: yellow blooms with slender red stripes, such a pretty surprise. I love them ardently, and as I work at my desk, keep stealing glances of these proud little ambassadors of a spring that’s bound to arrive someday, regardless of the blizzard that threatens to arrive later this week. Who can believe such doomsday predictions anyway? Today at least it promises to reach 40 degrees and the sun is shining with all her might. I am cheering her on. “Only God, my dear/ Could love you for yourself alone/ And not your yellow hair.”