Plum

In the frost, cold and snow of January, it's a surprise to see plum buds swelling on the branches. Although still a matter of faith, it is a promise that winter won't be endless.

In February, trudging to the station, if the bitter wind blows a certain way, you catch a sudden sweet scent. Looking up you see, above a garden fence, a gnarled branch hanging over the road, covered with the first blood-red plum blossom.

And then in other gardens a few buds of white plum open until as February turns to March and the days warm there is blossom everywhere in gardens parks and orchards and it still hasn't reached its fullness. When you know you have weeks to enjoy it, there's none of the heart-lifting urgency and orgy of celebration that cherry blossoms bring. Plum is an austere, sparser, cooler beauty and no less a pleasure for that.

plum blossom
gently scented
delicate points of white on bare branches

--Julian