the vibrant greeness of freshly sprung trees

I have been noticing the trees flower and leaf out. Yet it wasn't untill a couple of days ago that it sunk in. Spring is here and the trees have mostly sprung a new coat of downy green foliage. The freshness of the new leaves is riveting. No dust, no chewed holes, no waxy protective covering, no history, no fear, just a joyfull expansion into the world, an exuberant expression of life.
It reminds me of young children and how they explode out of houses to play and explore, arriving in the yards full volume, hardly touching the stairs, the porch, whirlwinds of pent-up energy, a controlled bundle of chaos. It is a stretch to compare the stoic rootedness of trees to whirling darlings. If looked at over time, and time is a stretchy experience, then the yearly leaf ins and outs would look like fireworks or pulsations or vibrations.
In Germany the new leaves are harvested and eaten. Clipped with shears, the delicate salad is available once a year for a few days, less than a week.
Last week there was a layer of pink snow on the ground underneath flowering cherry trees. It is marvelous to see. Totally incongruous, pink on green grass, a soft fluffy sheet spread yearly, lasting but a moment in time, a blink. It is all so temporary. The seasons, our lives, even ages and eons. Our universe expands and collapses, living for a short 50 billion years, over and over, forever and ever, like the trees that yearly leaf and drop, like children breathing, like neurons firing rythmically in our brains.