Birds of every stripe, ordinary and regal—robins, crows, hawks, and eagles—all bustle about readying their nests. Blanketed in springtime buds, the mountains appear to be clothed in mauve velvet against the sapphire sky. The valley’s rosy haze is reflected in the reservoir as a rich watermelon hue. Meanwhile, multitudes of tiny blossoms burst like emerald fireworks, rendering these hardwood forests softer. It’s as if the landscape is a book written in blushing pinks and chartreuse greens. Indeed, both books and the land are on my mind.