"Every flood, every where, leaves memories on the land from which it recedes. The trees that survived would add a wider ring to its memory, and with frost rings, light rings, and false rings, as well as missing and narrow rings, the flood would be just another ring of a memory in a tree. What do WE do? Where do we store all our love or the lack of it? How do we record our floods and our droughts and our famines... and with you not around, what do I do?"
Together, under a clear blue sky