Go to Tassie when the mainland is green and the contrary little island will be brown as a boot. Go when the big island is full of fire and dust and the small one will wash you in green rain. There will be cherry blossom serviced by bumble bees, and bright dimpled hills. There will be cold fronts shouting with rain— full-bodied raindrops that bounce off the skin and splatter with good intentions. Your umbrella will die, the markets will fizzle out, but you don’t care, it is green rain, on a green island, set under a giving sky. Once…