That’s the thought that keeps returning to me lately, as the roadsides light up like impossible pastel fireworks on the way down into the village; as Rory works out his notice and our entire financial future rests in my sleepy, distractible hands.
Destined to bloom brightly then fade in a flurry of pink confetti. One windstorm, one heavy rainfall and the glory is gone; splattered on the pavement like pink pebbledash.
But oh, what glory they bring. I once dated a man whose mother was irrationally irritated by cherry trees. ‘They’re gorgeous for one week and then they make a huge mess’, she told me, ‘then the rest of the year they’re just boring.’
Needless to say, I couldn’t agree. I think my favourite thing about the blossom might be its brevity; the watching and waiting as winter fades, the glorious riot of colour after so long in the gloom.
& besides, who wants to live that way – skipping joy because it might just be temporary, hating beauty because it’s helplessly ephemeral. How boring it would be if we applied these rules everywhere – no cake for me, I’ll only eat it. It’s the same logic, I suppose, that made my grandmother suggest I get more drastic haircuts in the name of ‘good value’.
Outside, children shout in the street and shake the branches like horticultural hooligans; upturned palms collecting fistfuls of springtime snowflakes. Teenagers throw their book bags high above their heads to unleash a shower of confetti, and all the time the bees are humming above in an ever shifting cloud.
And in the end I think, it’s ok to not be spectacular every single day. It’s fine to be practical and ordinary, strong and steady, dropping acorns in Autumn with no fanfare or glory. & if spring comes around, it’s ok to burst into activity, too: a frivolous foam of pastel pink fun, that fades to obscurity for a while, and makes my ex’s mum tsk.
In fact, that’s positively encouraged in my book. Seasons of creativity & all that, right?
(I don’t know what this post was about. I just had a lot of words about blossom trees, and nowhere else to put them..)
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