The Eight Year Wait

I was going to blip a much prettier and more artistic shot of our apple blossom in the evening sun, but this little glimmer of white is something even more precious.

8 years ago, when pregnant with our daughter I planted a seed I had found germinating inside a ripe pear. It grew.
When she was 18 months old I transplanted it to our flower bed. And it grew some more.

Each spring I waited for the pear blossom to come until last year a friend told me seeds from supermarket fruit would never blossom - the now sturdy young tree was nearly for the chop.

But charmed by the birds that loved to court safe in its spiky branches, I granted it a reprieve for just one more year.

This year it blossomed - just one little bundle of blossom, but blossom it is.