Ah... spring! The birds are blooming, the flowers are blowing, and the breeze is singing a soft romantic tune-- or something like that.
(OH-- Side note. There was this really obnoxious bird noise coming from the trees in front of the hospital, when my family came out in the evening, one day last week. It was the most incredible thing. Dad said he hadn't heard anything like that since he was in Africa. Turns out it was just a recording to scare the birds away from the parking lot, but I thought it was pretty nifty. I want one on my balcony. I also want a remote-control, dive-bombing bird so that I can inflict terror into the hearts of the smokers that stand outside and blow carcinogenic smoke into my apartment. :D )
So, what is romance, anyway, and why do we want it? What is it within us that cries out for someone to pick us out of a crowd and shower us with candlelight and roses? (Or daisies and a picnic, or granola and a hike, or whatever variations thereof) I have some theories, but I want to hear from you. Faithful readers, please enlighten me with your views. :)