The cherry tree doesn't count its days. It just blooms. I stood under this one for almost an hour, doing absolutely nothing useful, and I'd argue it was the most productive hour of my week. The light came through the petals and turned them into little pink lamps, and the whole canopy hummed with bees who had somewhere important to be. I think about how the tree waits all year for two weeks of this. Two weeks, and then the petals let go, one by one, without drama. There's a lesson in there I keep not learning. We hold so tightly to things that were never meant to be permanent — jobs, opinions, grudges, even good moments, squeezing them until they bruise. The blossoms don't squeeze. They open, they glow, they fall. And somehow next spring there they are again, more generous than we deserve. My grandmother used to say you should stand under a flowering tree at least once a year and just look up. She was right about most things. I stood there until my neck ached and my coffee went cold, and I'd do it again tomorrow.
#cherryblossom #springlight #pinkcanopy #slowmornings
