Lime blossom

Day after day I'd been walking the dog through what, in winter, I thought was a beech wood. It was fair enough. Winter, no leaves on the trees, beech mast all over the ground.

Come the spring, a least half the trees are limes, as was fashionable for big houses in the 18th/19th centuries when they were planted. Most are in leaf already, but some are still just coming out.

The blossom enchants with its fragility. And the leaves remind us why that garish colour on the paint chart is called lime green.