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The early blossoming trees and bushes are ringed with color, their pink and white petals fallen like petticoats that have been dropped into the grass. I first saw this a few weeks ago in Tennessee, where the azaleas were finishing up their blooming circle and dropping their blaze of colors. Now I see it here in New Hampshire, again with azaleas and apple and cherry trees. I love the richness of color in the landscape now, trees at their peak of showing off. Here is a poem from long ago that comes to mind every year at this time.
Rising
What is the weight of a flower, the weight
of a tree bearing such blatant intent?
Every mass of blossoms, snow cloud,
exclamation, exuberance of fruit
to come, has a future, a history,
a moment of abandon, petals
splayed wide, drawing pollen to the core.
The wilt and decay towards apple
is hidden in new leaves, riches spent,
riches returned, petals salting the grass.
Grace Mattern 