Cherry blossom

Sage sorts with a flower bed full of soil under their fingernails advise that the current riot of colour in the gardens, parks and hedgerows is down to the cold Winter we had. After snow, frost and rain Spring has finally come and mother nature has decided to strut her stuff.

This is especially evident in the cherry blossom, which appears to have flowered in the time it takes one to make a cuppa. One moment there will be a bare tree, you turn your back, hear a faint popping noise and then turn back to see a cloud has apparently sprouted where the tree used to be.

However, this being Spring, the cloud is then blown by a fresh wind and, before you have time to fiddle with the settings on your camera, you’re left looking at the collection of sticks that is a cherry blossom tree in its natural state.

This, I am now convinced, is why the haiku is the preferred verse form of the Japanese, where these sorts of trees adorned the landscape as well as plates and bowls. The Japanese scribe would look at the tree and barely have time to dash off three lines before – poof – the blossom is gone for another year.

The more permanent bed of geraniums, daffodils or hardy perennials ensured that the English verse form tended towards the sonnet or even epic, essentially something one could spend a few weeks perfecting, without fear of any great change.

There must be an ode to a lawn somewhere.