so normandy is where we'll go

France—France has a particularly deep smell to it, and I know I'm romanticizing France again. An entire country can't smell good; sometimes, not even an entire city block can smell good.

But to anyone charmed with France—and especially to anyone who's been lucky to live there and knows that France isn't always charming—it has a particularly deep smell, and there are many words I considered using instead of deep.

Nostalgic. Inspiring. Full. Rich. Spring-like {even when it's not spring}.

But deep is what I mean. The smell of France always makes me want to drink deep, write deep, think deep, and live deep.

It makes me want more from a day; it makes me want to be more present in a day.

To me, it's the smell of France that's so intoxicating, so deep with possibilities. Americans have tried for years—and will continue to try—to figure out why France is so appealing to so many of us.

History? Pain au chocolat? Cafes? Literature? Architecture? Art? Rolling hills covered in vineyards? Cheese?

There are so many reasons to be charmed with France, but for me, all the reasons are held in the smell of France. {So much so that I once wrote an entire piece on the smell of France, back when I lived in Normandy.}

Spring in America usually brings moments of France back to me, and it happened this morning.

I stepped outside with little pug at 7am, and the air had a bite of France to it. For the entire walk, I hummed the song "Normandy" from Once Upon a Mattress, which is about spring moments in France.

I couldn't help it; I had smelled France and I think if you listen to this song, you'll be able to smell the possibilities of a French moment, too.