Unveiling the Secret Life of Spring Ephemerals: Nature’s Forgotten Gems
A quarter mile down the road, closer to the school, two more kids step into the street in front of me without checking for cars. It’s a crosswalk, but my heart still twists at their blind faith, their germinal prefrontal cortexes and heedless innocence that are the mulch of this March day. The air holds the scent of fresh dew, and contrails knit the blue sky.
Near the drop-off, a woman pulls at the leash of a black and white cockapoo while four small children swirl in her wake, scattering, petals in a current. I creep along with a scrum of cars navigating the eddies, some drivers oblivious to their speed, what they move toward, and the small margin of error. I want to call to them, “Kids are sleepwalking here!” I want to holler to the children, “Wake up!” Instead, rolling to a stop, I tell my drowsy carload, “Look both ways. Please.” In side yards, camellias flutter and lilies-of-the-valley nod.
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