Here comes (there goes) the sun

Everybody's posting cherry blossoms this weekend; it's our secular, collective ritual. In the Arboretum, patient drivers politely navigate the snarled traffic, the snouts of Golden Retrievers protruding from the rolled-down windows of Saabs and Volvos. The Foster Island waterways are full of kayaks, canoes and picnic hampers. The earth renews itself; it always does.