Dear whitebeam,
I just wanted to say how beautiful you look at the moment. I forget every year how your pale, sage-coloured new leaves stand upright around your flowers, and look like ready-made posies, gifts for May Day. I also forget how shapely your canopy is, second only to the neat shape of the hornbeam (no relation, I know).
There's something about such a defined geometric shape found in something obviously organic that presses all my 'like' buttons (if you'll forgive the social media analogy). I have responded that way since I was a young child, and didn't have the language to explain why I felt that way. I had a huge encyclopedia of animals when I was little, and to this day I can still remember the illustration of the bower bird's nest in it: the arching twigs placed so precisely, the neat pile of blue objects at the opening of the bower. I was fascinated. Blue was my favourite colour too, and I liked the fact that the bower bird and I had that in common. Anyway, the shape of your canopy makes me feel the same way, and get that little feeling of 'rightness' when I look at you.
At the moment, your leaves also serve as weather warnings for oncoming rain. The April showers have come late, as I'm sure you know, and they appear ferociously from nowhere. When I was out walking the other day, I noticed the wind blowing your leaves over, exposing the white underside, and sure enough, the downpour started soon after. Thank you for your warning, though in truth, I didn't mind getting wet. It's a pleasure to be out of the house, hearing the sound of raindrops pattering through leaves, and the wet fabric of my trouser legs was pleasantly cooling on my short walk. It was also good to know that you are getting the water you need.
Yours, in love and admiration,
bsag
I just wanted to say how beautiful you look at the moment. I forget every year how your pale, sage-coloured new leaves stand upright around your flowers, and look like ready-made posies, gifts for May Day. I also forget how shapely your canopy is, second only to the neat shape of the hornbeam (no relation, I know).
There's something about such a defined geometric shape found in something obviously organic that presses all my 'like' buttons (if you'll forgive the social media analogy). I have responded that way since I was a young child, and didn't have the language to explain why I felt that way. I had a huge encyclopedia of animals when I was little, and to this day I can still remember the illustration of the bower bird's nest in it: the arching twigs placed so precisely, the neat pile of blue objects at the opening of the bower. I was fascinated. Blue was my favourite colour too, and I liked the fact that the bower bird and I had that in common. Anyway, the shape of your canopy makes me feel the same way, and get that little feeling of 'rightness' when I look at you.
At the moment, your leaves also serve as weather warnings for oncoming rain. The April showers have come late, as I'm sure you know, and they appear ferociously from nowhere. When I was out walking the other day, I noticed the wind blowing your leaves over, exposing the white underside, and sure enough, the downpour started soon after. Thank you for your warning, though in truth, I didn't mind getting wet. It's a pleasure to be out of the house, hearing the sound of raindrops pattering through leaves, and the wet fabric of my trouser legs was pleasantly cooling on my short walk. It was also good to know that you are getting the water you need.
Yours, in love and admiration,
bsag