PlazaJen: Passion Knit

We have a crabapple tree in front of our house, and when we first moved in to the house, it rained little sour fruit all over the driveway, creating a mess & causing JWo to grumble about his desire to cut it down. The next spring, we had about two days of blossoms - and they were stunning. He did some pruning, to reduce some of the overhang on the driveway, and I think we've arrived at a compromise. Yesterday I stood in the drive, as the wind blew soft pink petals all around me, and I felt like I was in a movie. Perhaps the lesson is that even the grouchiest of trees has the capacity to explode in beauty and loveliness.


 

Even though it's not a cherry, this poem still rings true:

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now,
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
It stands along the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again.
Subtract from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since, to look at things in bloom,
Fifty springs is little room,
Along the woodland I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
-A.E. Housman