In the quiet of early February, this impression holds the faint echo of spring — not in full bloom, but in the promise of it. Leafy branches drift as if stirred by a gentle breeze, carrying the lightness of early spring. Tender buds emerge with quiet hesitation, holding the delicate tension of the almost, the just-before. From a nest of bare branches, one bold blossom rises, a quiet pulse of what’s to come. I invite you to celebrate the hint: a whisper of flowers, a shadow of a breeze, a trace of scent. Subtle, fleeting, full of possibility.