“April is the cruelest month,” according to T S Eliot in his long and complex poem, The Waste Land.
This line came back to me recently as I stood and watched heavy rain almost beat the blossom from the trees. I’m sure that’s not what he had in mind when he wrote it but it felt quite apt just then.
In between the fog and the rain, we’ve had some lovely days, days when it would have been criminal not to stop and take photos of the glorious blossom as I was passing.
It seemed particularly abundant this year but maybe that’s because I was looking for it?
A week after I snapped these photos, much of the blossom was already gone. I’m sure there’s a message from Mother Nature there about appreciating every day or something.
Poor old Mark has been suffering with his hay fever and it’s horrible to see him all bunged up and red eyed. I’ve tried to keep my joy at the blossom under under wraps but I’m not sure I’ve been that successful.
Are you a blossom fan? Have you had much where you live?