I went for a walk up the street late tonight as I often do for some fresh air and to mull things over. The trees are in bloom, filling the night air with their deliciously sweet scents. I could almost taste the fruit that won't appear until July or August. A light breeze rustled their new leaves with a sound that I had forgotten over the winter. Mule deer strolled down the road a block ahead of me. After staring out over the valley for a while, at the black hole cut in the center of all the lights by the lake, the red radio antenna lights flashing atop Lake Mountain, and the aircraft fading in and out of the low clouds, I turned around and headed toward home. A few rain drops sprinkled on my forehead accompanied by a gust of cool breeze and the dusty smell that often precedes a downpour. So I did the only sensible thing. I walked more slowly.