Today’s spring excitement: cherry blossom coming into bloom. I can’t remember (of course) what variety this cherry is, but we planted it about five years ago and the blossom is an annual treat.
I don’t even mind grey skies when there’s cherry blossom to see against it. Pale pink and pale grey make one of my favourite colour combinations, anyway. (That preference dates from reading ‘What Katy Did’ as a girl: I seem to recall that Katy’s sister, Clover, once wore a dove grey frock with a pale pink sash. I was entranced. All my drawings of party dresses, for months, were coloured grey and pink.)
Even the bark of cherry trees is beautiful, full of texture and colour, shiny dark red with roughened off-white.
The beauty of the cherry trees is a welcome distraction from more morbid thoughts at the moment. As the first anniversary of my head injury approaches, I find I have been dwelling on it a good deal, and on the symptoms that persist. (Strictly speaking it was a brain injury: my bonce was fine, protected by my snowboarding helmet.) Perhaps I will manage to write a bit more about that soon. For the moment, the fleeting beauty of the cherry blossom is a reminder (though how could we forget) of Japan, where there are people in unimaginably worse situations; and a reminder that spring comes nonetheless, with its careless grace.
There is a post about May’s apple and pear blossom at Seeing this, who could blame Eve?