Fragments From Floyd

It happens too quickly, the surge of bloom and leaf, suddenly--when there are enough degrees, the right amount of water around roots, and the earth tips just so toward the sun again in spring. One day, overnight, rabbit out of a hat, we have forest again. If I were in charge, I'd put the show on freeze-frame, be sure I'd seen it all--buds, buds opening, new leaves, early blossoms, inch-tall fiddleheads--under the open canopy. But I leave the house each morning now, wander down the lane saying "No! I had to sleep! I missed the part where..."

In heaven, maybe I will get to hold the remote control of the seasons.