The daffodils hang their yellow heads, heavy with the morning dew. They punctuate the coiffed damp landscape with their sunny disposition, just visible under a blanket of fog thick and silent as Carl Sandberg's little cat feet. Later, the sun will cut through the thick, humid air that makes my hair frizzy. The daffodils will turn their faces to the sun, buds will begin to blossom, and the fog will lift. None of this will help my frizzy hair. I think about my own spring time renewal because I'm staying at the Water's Edge Resort and Spa in Westbrook, CT with my stylist. She has a timeshare, but I've stayed in the hotel before, taken advantage of the pool, the spa, and the restaurant known for its award-winning Sunday brunch. As a native New Englander, I love all kinds of weather, last night's thunderstorm and this morning's fog not to be excluded. It doesn't matter that it's not bathing suit weather, it's still suitable for standing on the balcony listening to the surf. But this is surf lite--on Long Island Sound, no booming, crashing wave sounds. It's more like ambient sleep noise that repeats itself forever. I like the fog this morning--it suits my mood, slows me down, and makes me look under it for bright patches, like daffodils and crocuses. Any day is a good day on the water's edge.