There was a hint of winter in the air in the morning, but it didn’t last. Soon enough the sun came out and everywhere I walked, there was the scent of blossoms rushing to fill the air with sweet notes ahead of their proper season. All of which made me even more nostalgic for winter. Maybe not so much for the whimsy of wind and the lashing rain, or the odd dusting of snow on the peaks of Mt. Tam, but for the predictable rhythms that used to underscore our lives when the seasons played quartets.