I could see the cold come in. The sky was grey and mottled with clouds that looked like dirty ice crystals. The wind blew the leaves horizontally with a force that bent the branches high then low.

April blossoms dipped and waved in tempo with the wind as if to escape the disaster that was to come. Asparagus fingers appeared to shiver and the peony eyes, already expanding and reaching to explode their blossoms, jittered to and fro in a crazy kind of dance.

Icy arrows seemed to penetrate my heart. All was in place for a spectacular spring, my mother's first in Atlanta and, at age 86, perhaps nearly her last. Dogwood blossoms, light green and bursting, ready for the ultimate display; tulips in bud and flower, almost ready. "Twenty-five degrees tonight", they said, "cover anything still living". How can you cover the whole landscape?

Holly Klass