I’ve always loved picnics. Or, more accurately, the idea of them. I can’t count how many times I’ve been on one. The best being when my husband surprised me with a picnic in Paris. We still have the blanket we smuggled back in our luggage.

To disconnect. To butt up against a tree and read a book. To sit in the sun, not minding the bugs floating around your thermos. To smoke and ash in the wind. That’s comfort to me. That’s the moment I want to recreate this Spring. Adding it to our to-do list immediately.