As spring proceeds at warp speed I strain to catch the hedge in front of my office as it erupts with new growth. I’ve written about this hedge before, about the moment in its unfolding when the pink of the bud and the green of the leaf are in equipoise.

This year it caught me by surprise, but I’m glad I noticed. It’s important to see the hedge at its beginning, to travel the journey of the growing season together. To be able to say, I knew those leaves when they were born; heck, I knew them even before they were born.

They are tender at this point in their emergence, with all their young leaf life before them. Later on they will undoubtedly be hot and tired and weary of being green. If only they could remember how they look now, the rosy splendor of their emergence. That’s why I look and linger. I’ll remember it for them.