Our house in the springtime gives me a perma-grin.

I know I know.  Every post I've written in the past couple weeks revolves around the beautiful spring we're having, but I just can't get over it.  Spring is by far my favorite season, and I never get tired of it.  It's our third year in our house, and I've been looking forward to our cherry blossoms for months. 

As happens every year, I catch people from all over the neighborhood stopping on the sidewalk or road in front of our house to take pictures.  And it is picturesque, don't you think?  The bright red house, the soft pink blossoms, the green grass and the round yellow forsythia bush?

They're not completely at their peak yet, but I am thinking they'll probably be at optimal blossom-ness this weekend.  You know what's even better?  They smell as good as they look!  When you turn onto our street you see a puffy pink cloud of blossoms and the closer you get the more you can smell them.  I was telling Blake this morning that I wish I could bottle up that scent and keep it all year round: the blossoms, the clean, fresh spring air, the forsythias.  Mmmm.  It's my idea of heaven.