Just when I needed them, France sent me flowers. It’s an early, fragile spring this year.
The cherry tree is covering itself cautiously with blossoms, opening just a few at a time lest wind destroy the crop. I’ve heard that this tree produces wonderful fruit, and I’m hoping that this will be a good year for cherries. It’s poignant, because the palm tree next to it, like all the palm trees in our yard and many of the palms in the south of France, is dying from a noxious infestation of grubs.
Sometimes a flower is just a flower, just beauty, just something that stops you in your tracks with its extravagant impracticality.
My favorites are the flowers that remind me of the fruit to come, and in the process remind me of how to live: before we can have fruit, flowers must fall.