This long, treacherous winter has me longing to skip spring altogether and jump into the warmth of a lazy mid-summer day.  I’ve been dreaming of green – not scattered shoots of crocuses or the chartreuse of emerging leaves, but vibrant swaths of treetop and grass so lush that it begs for bare feet.  Steinbeck wrote in Travels with Charley: In Search of America, “What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?”  I predict this will be our sweetest summer yet.