Since March, I've been flying throughout Europe, and to the USA, twice, in search of Frans Hals' fluid brushstrokes, for my thesis on his six family portraits, and connoisseurship. I've been to Madrid, London (twice!), Brussels, Cincinnati and Toledo, Ohio, and Poznan, Poland. Today, I emerged from a month of a self-imposed writing exile–I floated between my computer screen and balcony, mixed in with books, articles, and paintings, and a few trips to the Mauritshuis, in The Hague, and to the Rijksmuseum, in Amsterdam, just around the corner–to find the city, in an effervescence of blooms. The first of many boats have returned, to glide along the canals, now that they're enveloped by emerald-esque growth of mature trees.