Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.





And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
—A.E. Houseman

My cheery tree has more blooms than I've ever seen on it before. In the eight or nine years since we planted this tree, it's never produced many cherries. This year, at least, the profusion of blooms promises a bountiful crop.

Spring is all about promises. From elsewhere in my yard. . . .

The bridal wreath also promises  many blooms.

The crape myrtle is devoid of blooms now, but they'll come later. Right now it is not devoid of Chloe the kitty, who clings to one of the branches.

The dogwood branches are still mostly bare. But there's just a hint of green on the tips.

A slip from Granny Sallie's lilac, that I transplanted from Smith Farm spring before last, is doing well and promises blooms. This is an old-timey lilac with a wonderfully sweet  fragrance.

The oaks are mostly bare, but—if you look closely—you can see they have a tiny bit of green.

See?

A few tulips are up at the old gazebo. In a few weeks, it will be surrounded by lush greenery.

The peach tree near the mailbox is loaded with blooms, too. It was supposed to be an ornamental peach, but it produces small and sweet fruit.

A little primrose that I planted last year survived the winter.

The redbud will be covered in blooms in a week or so.

The violets are already blooming everywhere. So many blooms to look at; and I've already used up three score and four of my years. 

Every spring, I can't look at everything hard enough.

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