Jean Giono in Joy of Man’s Desiring calls spring “that time of year when the trees are in love with each other.” I had forgotten it, but happily the phrase came back to me today as I passed down a shaded avenue in a rain of falling blossoms. Proof of the trees’ amours is spread on the balmy, fondling air in the form of little scalloped petals, pink and white, semi-transparent, fragile as the fingernails of infants.  In the oblivion of their passion the trees pay no attention to those who admire them but pass the whole day exchanging ardent, melting glances with one another.


Leave a comment

Filed under Misc.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s