Dance of the Cherry Blossom Fairies by Elsie Ramsey

When April’s shades of gray morph into May’s euphoric color wheel, depressives like me feel butterflies. Like falling into infatuation or at least sensing its possibility, I glide around Philadelphia. Cherry blossom “snow flurries” feel like childhood’s return: can we for a moment believe that benevolent forces govern the world? Two weeks more to go — it will be as lovely as you make it.