Cherry in Bloom

After a turbulent stormy night, morning broke with a cloudless sky and outside my window the majestic cherry tree shimmered, aglow in the sunlight! Most of the year, she is just a large old leafy lady with many a branch covered in lichen, but near Easter, year after year, her flourish of grand white clusters transforms her into an ethereal sight.

She is no less magnificent today than the first time she astonished me in the spring of 2000. Soon after, Traylor said, "I want to build the house at the top of the slope by the cherry tree, facing south." Surrounded as she was by poison ivy and blackberry vines and with barbed wire from the old fence grown into her two-foot trunk, we had some renewal work to do, but it was worth the effort. For us now, she is the perfect symbol of life, anchored for all seasons.

While she usually blooms about the third week of April, this year's blooms began to open the last week of March, and today, on Wednesday of Easter week, she is in full regalia. Each blossom is a ball of white flowers with touches of yellow, delicate as silk and easily ruffled by a breeze.

Within close-up camera range, the hum of bees is so loud that you might wonder if the tree itself is preparing to take flight. I cheer the timely bees and their part in the making of the fruit. Over the next weeks, the fruit will set and then we wait for the cherries knowing that about half the time, they are nipped by a frost or a freeze.

Our last frost date in Grassy Creek is May 15. (In 2004, our last hard freeze came on May 25th! We had no cherries that year or any other fruit or nuts for that matter.) Again, we have had no cherries the last two years (2010 and 2011) due to cold spring weather. This year, blooms are about 3 weeks early and I live in fear of the slightest dip toward 32 degrees. Odds are against us.

To the Japanese, the cherry blossom is a symbol of impermanence and transcience. They have a phrase, "mono no aware," which means the "ahh-ness of things," that captures the ephemeral nature of life and love, and even the emotion sometimes evoked through writing. Because the cherry blossoms can't last, I take greater pleasure in their beauty and feel a wistful sadness at their falling. I am sad enough when the blossoms fall, but deeply disappointed when the cherries are lost to a freeze.

  (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mono_no_aware.)

When we are lucky and the cherries set and grow, we harvest them 4th of July weekend which is perfect because we usually have a crowd. Traylor drives the tractor up to close to the tree with some of us in the bucket and lifts us up into the branches. We pick buckets full and still leave thousands out of our reach for the birds to enjoy.

Each fruit is small with a large seed and at first I thought it might not be worth the effort to seed them. Wrong. It's easy to press the seeds out and the delicious fruit is the perfect raw material for making a silky sweet but chewy sauce to pour over ice cream. There are lots of options, I'm just stuck on this one.

The VERY LAST JAR!

Now I hear that the weather is about to cool down. Before Easter, we should have two days in the mid-30s, but then for the following Tuesday, we're hearing the freeze-word. I'm thinking of stoking the chiminea and staying out all night for the sake of 4th of July fun and a year's worth of cherry sauce. I'm down to just one last jar! It's the least I can do for such a beneficent and beautiful friend. Come on up and enjoy the fire. It should be fun!