We rise before the sun, which arrives earlier every day on its quest to claim more of the night. Our days not only grow longer, but they become hotter, and the blossoms of spring must burst forth before the scorching summer heat crisps everything in its path here in the desert. We experienced our first 100-degree day (37 Celsius) nine days ago, which we can only hope does not portend something worse than last year’s fifty-five days of temperatures above 110 degrees (43 Celsius). Our winter gear is yet to be put away, just in case we are so fortunate to have a couple more cooler days ahead. Sure, the burst of color is always a welcome sight, as is the return of the song and fluttering of the mockingbirds, but the arrival of allergens works to temper the enthusiasm, even if only a tiny bit. With our alarm clock slowly creeping counterclockwise into the morning, waking us earlier and earlier, the warming days remind us of something else: hold hands as much as possible now because we are only weeks away from sweaty hands that lose some of the appeal of being grasped in love.