The redbud drops its color consecrating the cracked ground for one hundred hours. It's a quiet Springtime transfer, the sun's last blessing before sweltering months. Witness this and you'll fast forward to the planting of emerald rye in October.
Today my window is open and I hear the high school marching band practicing (they sound good). The team has a home game this Friday against a conference foe. And my neighbor is rider-mowing his lawn after a couple weeks of rainfall.