Spring. It was that kind of a day, on the tulip shot.
Billy Collins describes it best:
If ever there was a spring day so perfect,so uplifted by a warm intermittent breezethat it made you want to throwopen all the windows in the houseand unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,a day when the cool brick pathsand the garden bursting with peoniesseemed so etched in sunlightthat you felt like takinga hammer to the glass paperweighton the living room end table,releasing the inhabitantsfrom their snow-covered cottageso they could walk out,holding hands and squintinginto this larger dome of blue and white,well, today is just that kind of day.