#weeping cherry

Weeping cherry tree.

The weather birds passing overhead told Algy that, down south in England and Wales, today was the hottest day of the year so far, and also the warmest for the past six months, with temperatures reaching 25 degrees celsius in some places. But in the wild west Highlands of Scotland conditions were a wee bit different, and even in the middle of the day the temperature struggled to reach 13 degrees, which staggering high was considerably tempered by the very fresh wind that caused Algy to seek shelter yet again…

However, it wasn't raining for once, so Algy decided to rest for a while among the daffodils and early blossom, in a spot protected by some larger shrubs and hedgerows, so that he could properly admire the glowing colours and the flowers' attractive perfume. As he had observed before, the local plants were surprisingly tough, and evidently well acclimatized to the harsh conditions (those that survived at all, that is), and many of the spring flowers looked very pretty despite the decidedly cool weather and constant battering by wind, rain and hail… not to mention the snow that had fallen over the weekend.

Algy reflected that it did indeed look very much like spring, even though it could hardly be said to feel like it, for everywhere he looked there were young leaves sprouting on twigs, the grass was turning much greener and beginning to grow, and the other birds were pairing and singing, just as the poet remarked in some verses he had once read… although he really could not agree that the thaw-wind blew in any way that could possibly be described as pleasant…

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly, Drips the soaking rain, By fits looks down the waking sun: Young grass springs on the plain; Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees; Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits, Swollen with sap put forth their shoots; Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane; Birds sing and pair again. There is no time like Spring, When life's alive in everything, Before new nestlings sing, Before cleft swallows speed their journey back Along the trackless track - God guides their wing, He spreads their table that they nothing lack, - Before the daisy grows a common flower Before the sun has power To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.

How beautiful the leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.