I am on my way into my first grader's school today and I stop dead in my tracks. A clump of delicate pink blossoms is staring me right in the face. I am pulled out of the rush of my day. For a few minutes I am still, watching the bundles of blossoms bounce lightly on the slender branches. The cherry trees are the latest to bloom in my neck of the woods and I find myself wishing I had one of these trees in my yard. I am grateful that here in front of the chunky cinder block school there is a tree so full of blossoms hanging just at my height. I'm not sure I've ever studied a cherry blossom up close. I can say that in my new found flower fixation, each new bloom is its own marvel. I'm sure I've passed these trees in the car each year and remarked for a moment in my mind or to my girls about the beautiful pink hue. But to get up close is something all together different.
Later we play in the driveway and we take a short walk around the neighborhood looking at cherry trees. Although we don't have one (yet) we can see four from the sidewalk in front of our house. We make the rounds standing under each tree looking up through the canopy of palest pink.