Blossom Time

Finally. It was a cold winter and a late spring. The wild plums at the back of the meadow that have been known to burst into blossom in February are only just now in full frill and celebration. I love plum blossoms, their modesty and delicacy, their soft fragrance and the vulnerability of their petals beginning to open before the leaves on rough, bare, gnarled branches. The plum blossom is a poignant symbol of hope and resilience, beauty and impermanence. I can understand why this symbol is so beloved in Japan & China, by poets and painters. Here are a few lines from “The Fisherman” by Li Po:

The earth has drunk the snow,

And now the plum trees are blossoming once more.

The willow leaves are like new gold;

The lake is molten silver.

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