The moment

There is a moment each spring, a fleeting moment, when our cherry tree blossoms and reaches an apex of perfect, pristine beauty.

You know the moment has arrived when around 6 a.m., while stumbling into the kitchen in search of serious caffeination, you are hit with a nuclear blast of shimmering white just outside the window. The whole world is brilliant, illuminated by the watery light of a springtime sunrise coursing along and through each of the cherry tree’s branches and petals.

Forget the coffee for a minute. Slip out the backdoor and stand in the back yard. A bright yellow crown of goldfinches scatter like jewels tossed in the air.


And there it is. The sun has turned the cherry tree’s gray, sturdy branches into threads of silver. A soft wind riffs, ever so slightly, across the lawn. The leaves shimmy seductively. . . petals become animate things. They wave an early morning greeting to the world.

And, that is, when you know it is the moment.