Paris? Kyoto? Florence? Of course. Washington, DC? Really? Yes, really. Like those magnificent cities east and west of us, this city by the river undergoes a major transformation with the arrival of spring. I’m even tempted to say that the city, and in some very dramatic way, gets in touch with its sensitive side. Even the light is transformed during this time of the year, with grey, overcast days giving way to skies that are so blue that you could be forgiven for thinking you were staring at the heavens in Provence. The longish days, with their mellow temperatures and orange morning light, are nothing short of nature’s unabashed public display of affection for us all. And everywhere you look, from the small John Marshall Place Park along Pennsylvania Avenue, to the mighty Capitol grounds, and beyond to the breathtaking Cherry Blossoms lining the Tidal Basin, you are rewarded by nature’s unselfish color spectacle. In this light, and under endless pink canopies that nature so graciously has shared with us for too brief a moment, it is easy to forget Paris, Kyoto, and Florence. In fact, they never came to mind. I had my city instead.