Winters in Santa Fe, where my family and I live, tend to linger on. Like many Rocky Mountain locations, we can get snow into May. The last frost of the winter may not come until a week or more after Mothers Day. As a good southern boy, I don’t necessarily miss the heat and humidity, but by this time of year I am worn down by the cold and am ready for something balmier. In February of each year my wife, Stella, and our kids plant seeds in old egg cartons. Watching the seedlings sprout and begin to grow brings hope for warmer weather—and joy for the summer and fall harvests! It’s become a familiar cycle each year. Even though I know intellectually that each year is a cycle, I often find myself thinking and acting as if I will be chilled to the bone forever. But slowly the days...