Farewell, blossom - catch you next year!

As my previous blog on this topic revealed, I’m more a quiet, contemplative, white blossom man myself, as opposed to a sybaritic, let’s all get drunk and dance around under a pink Prunus type to welcome the spring (to recap: the Japanese fall into one or other of these celebratory camps). 

But while pink is very definitely not my favourite colour, I quite enjoy it when it turns the trees trees to blancmange. Last week, visiting Windsor Great Park for the first time, we came across this beautiful sight:

A proper cherry orchard in full bloom. (It looked better once I’d persuaded some gloomy Russian scribbler to step out of the picture.)

Strolling near our house half an hour ago, I came across the clearest possible indication that the blossom season is gasping its last. We’ve all seen blossom drifts before, but I’ve never seen one quite this definite:

It seems today’s downpours stripped the trees and effectively glued the blossom to every surface, creating an unexpected treat.

I’m already looking forward to once more donning my Fotherington-Thomas persona next March.