"Yea, all which it inherit - shall dissolve, and like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on - and our little life is rounded with a sleep." Tempest Act 4 William Shakespeare
As I was walking down to the pond I saw this small area in front of me, probably no more than a couple of feet in either direction...an explosion of color, form and light, begging not to be forgotten.
A symphony to see.