Strawberries, cherries, and an angel's kiss in spring

Dear future hubster,

where seasons change, where snow and rain and heat still come and go, where days get longer to get shorter again - summer nights smell different there. A hint of absolution for sins we don't remember, a taste of promises we have no intention believing, a glimpse of daydreams that haunt us in the midday sun. They smell like everything could be possible - if only we weren't so afraid.