Foiled

I brought the digital camera to work with me this morning, hoping to document for you the loveliness of the snow on the cherry tree outside my window. I got it out of my bag and turned it on...and the little green light went instantly red, and the lens cover refused to open. Dead batteries. I actually have a bag full of batteries sitting in my office--I've been waiting for a good time to drop them off over at the student commons for recycling--and I even went through them, hoping two of them might possibly have enough juice for just one picture. Just one! But nothing. I did, actually, take a picture of "my" tree once before, but the glare off the window and the sun over the roofline made for a lot of whiteness and not much else. So maybe I'm just not meant to photograph this tree. Instead, I'm reduced to words.

I'd been planning to get a shot of the cherry tree for a couple of days now--it bursts into bloom so suddenly, I never know it's ready until it's in full swing. And I usually like to throw my windows open during the week it blooms, though I know that means shriveled up petals on the floor--it's just too beautiful to keep a barrier between us.

This week, though, the cherry trees have been shivering along with the rest of us, and my window has stayed closed. They've bloomed, but they may be regretting it. I imagine the azaleas and tulips--still several weeks away--smugly whispering to the daffodils and forsythia: "See? I told you it was too early!"

Last night it snowed. The forsythia in the backyard is blanketed with snow, and when the snow melts I fear the blooms will be gone. The daffodils have been fading anyway, and the cherry trees...

Well, actually, the cherry trees look much as they did yesterday. Blobs of snow instead of blobs of blossoms, lacy branches outlined by pinkish white. Driving in to work this morning I was struck by the beauty this late snow brought us. The trees may not like it, but--despite the windshield-scraping, the cold, the inevitable mud to follow--I'm happy.