Dear cherry trees,
I see a few of you on my daily walk. Most of you live in gardens, but there are still one or two of you who have survived as magnificent street trees, in spite of random acts of Council butchery. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you all look right now. Your pink blossoms are a longed-for fizz of colour and a visible embodiment of Spring. When I think of the colours of this season, I think of the fresh (almost lime) green of emerging leaves, yellow (primrose, daffodil, celandine), white (the creamy white foam of blackthorn), and the soft pink shades of your blossom. Pink isn't a colour I like to wear myself, but you look spectacular in it.
I love your variation in form and shade of pink too. Some of you have candy pink petals, while others are a very pale blush pink. Some of you have obviously been heavily pruned by humans into rather stiff and formal shapes. I feel sorry for you, and wish that humans would let you spread your branches and do your own thing.
I look out for every one of you on my route, but the one that lifts my heart most at the moment is you - the magnificent specimen in the hollow of someone's front garden. Mercifully, the humans seem to have mostly left you alone. You have quite a short trunk, but then your form bursts into multiple stems spreading into a cloud of the lightest pink. You look wild and beautiful, and perfect, like an exquisite illustration on a Japanese ceramic vase. Somehow it always looks as if your branches are moving, even when there is no wind.
This morning I noticed that your petals are starting to fall, and there is a trail of pink confetti lining the pavements next to the house. I probably don't have too much longer in which to enjoy your big moment this year, but I will try to make the most of it and look forward to seeing you next Spring.
Yours, in love and admiration,
bsag
I see a few of you on my daily walk. Most of you live in gardens, but there are still one or two of you who have survived as magnificent street trees, in spite of random acts of Council butchery. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you all look right now. Your pink blossoms are a longed-for fizz of colour and a visible embodiment of Spring. When I think of the colours of this season, I think of the fresh (almost lime) green of emerging leaves, yellow (primrose, daffodil, celandine), white (the creamy white foam of blackthorn), and the soft pink shades of your blossom. Pink isn't a colour I like to wear myself, but you look spectacular in it.
I love your variation in form and shade of pink too. Some of you have candy pink petals, while others are a very pale blush pink. Some of you have obviously been heavily pruned by humans into rather stiff and formal shapes. I feel sorry for you, and wish that humans would let you spread your branches and do your own thing.
I look out for every one of you on my route, but the one that lifts my heart most at the moment is you - the magnificent specimen in the hollow of someone's front garden. Mercifully, the humans seem to have mostly left you alone. You have quite a short trunk, but then your form bursts into multiple stems spreading into a cloud of the lightest pink. You look wild and beautiful, and perfect, like an exquisite illustration on a Japanese ceramic vase. Somehow it always looks as if your branches are moving, even when there is no wind.
This morning I noticed that your petals are starting to fall, and there is a trail of pink confetti lining the pavements next to the house. I probably don't have too much longer in which to enjoy your big moment this year, but I will try to make the most of it and look forward to seeing you next Spring.
Yours, in love and admiration,
bsag