Another spring vanished....
A sheet of crocuses singing along the grass alley. White, under trees still bare. Crocuses dotting the open grass with June gold....
Suddenly a mist of green on the trees, as quiet as thought.... Small leaves in broad daylight, magic reality, silent at midday amidst the noise of traffic....
Then full spring for three days. Holding life still, when the dawn mists drew off the sea and garden and revealed their colour.
Everyone had loved it, independent of other loves. Become for a while single. Wanting and trying and failing to utter its beauty. Everyone had had those moments of reality in forgetfulness. Quickly passing. Growing afterwards longer than other moments, spreading out over the whole season; representing it in memory....