After rushing home with the three boxes of flowers to plant — bought on whim (as always for me each April, inevitably propelled by the promise of a big storm) — and then getting the flowers into the beds around the house and trying unsuccessfully to scrub the dirt out from under my fingernails, I moved quickly through a litany of little errands. The last of these was to drive back to town to pick up Forest, the first big drops of rain hitting the windshield. I turn right onto Hwy. 458, looked ahead, glanced and the rearview mirror, and there it was: a single stand of lightning, pouring down at, well, the speed of light.
I kept driving, but told myself about the storm as well as about the big bright green, alighting on every branch except for those ones heavy with redbud blossom, “See this.” Spring comes at such a heartbreakingly fast pace, and always during a crazy-busy time, that in a glance, it’s suddenly summer. Yet right now, at this moment the next day when the rain brings out the resonant color of all new growth, it’s right here. Don’t miss it.