The microclimates of different suburbs are most recognisable at this time of year. In some places, the trees are only just moving from budding to flowering, while in others the open blossoms are already wind-blown and slowly moving to the next part of their cycle. Blink and you are likely to miss it.
One morning a fortnight ago, I was delighted to come across a naturalised fruit tree on my dog-walking path. From its pale blossoms and distinctive magenta centres, it is most likely an almond tree. In the few years that I have been here, the tree has not grown much. Yet every spring, it puts on a magnificent show for all who walk past it. On a whim, I took a photo of the blossoms and sent it to my cousin, for whom the season is also changing. His world is moving towards the cool of autumn.
This morning, as I walked the dog, I stopped at the tree to have another look. I was surprised to see that many of the flowers had dropped and the tree no longer looked as glorious as it had. All in the space of two weeks. It made me think of the changes we all go through, hardly noticeable from day to day until we look in the mirror and realise how much the person looking back has changed. Viewed through the lens of the seasons, this makes perfect sense. Why should we be surprised when we, too, are part of nature’s great cycle? Perhaps the scraggly little tree had not lost its glory at all. It was simply moving into its next season, as we all are.
From Quill to Quote 