"Trees are all different shapes and sizes. They're towering above us when we walk. They're strong...with green leaves and brown, rough bark. They're shelter for animals and shade for humans...relief from the sun.
"They grow in spring green, and are green in summer. In autumn, they're ablaze with color...red, orange, yellow...And then the leaves turn brown, and fall, and get underfoot when you walk."
He reached his left hand off the blanket, finding a leaf and pulling it back to himself, running his fingers over the rough edges, discerning the pattern of it.
"The tree's roots dig into the ground, holding on, keeping it anchored. You've pulled out a weed before. Remember the roots?"
He nodded. He remembered. Roots, dirt caked, holding on, only giving when he pulled just a bit harder.
"The leaves themselves have veins...like the lines on your palms, almost. Each type of tree has different leaves, with different veining patterns, and different edges. The one you have there is a maple."
He fingered the leaf, feeling for the veins.
"Some trees have flowers, also," she said. "They blossom in the spring or summer. They're beautiful. The park has a few. We'll have to come back this summer to see."
She was planning for another summer. Something about this made him very happy.
"Tell me about the sky," he said.