The summer didn't die; it isn't over, just dove into the Lorax's turquoise eyes – like Humming Fish dive into the river waters and hide close to the bottom to sleep through the winter. And, just like a Humming Fish, it'll sleep till warm days in the orange and pink squishy depth of the forest guardian. Moving slightly in its sleep, brushing his heart with a golden fin – and making the Lorax wince and chuckle to himself because of all that. Maybe even roll on his back, like ages ago in his kithood. "Mustache, what's come over you?" – will ask the Once-ler. "It's freezing outside and he laughs…" – he'll grumble the other day. Little does this Beanpole know that it's not at him, it's only because of the wonder happening inside the Lorax. Anyone would chuckle too with their heart being tickled like this. But the Lorax won't say it aloud – the Once-ler, not being a spirit, won't understand it anyway. He'll just jokingly bat a paw at the inventor's hand reaching out to scratch the fluffy belly. Not now, friend. Don't wake up the sleeping – unborn – summer before time.