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You know they gotta be good. Tis the season to bestow my bliss on thee. My connection to Santa; who does not live in Atlanta, wishes to bestow my spark, in the park on a lark. I do hereby give you what I have in my heart. As the trees are christened with snow from above, you can tell that it's the season with the flight of a dove. All of this happens in the spirit of love.

"A loss for all seasons, a mutual confort grew up in far-away cabins of their imagination (.....)"

Life is like a flower that opens up to the possibilities and shines with all of it's beauty. Just like flowers have seasons, there are reasons that the beauty comes and goes. The real beauty is stored within and it is this knowing that provides the feeling of certainty.