Sakura

I love the tree outside my window. The eldest neighbours tell me that it was planted in 1946 just as the true horror of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was first becoming known. The man who planted it had served in the Far East, but nobody knew exactly what he had done in the war, only that he was never seen in uniform, even during remembrance services. Perhaps his secrets were buried with the roots of the tree.



It's the oldest flowering cherry I have seen - many more were planted in the early 1970s, but memories were too raw to allow them to be planted in many places before then. They are tiny compared to this one, over four stories high and providing shelter for birds, May Bugs, errant felines and many bumble bees. Sometimes, I even spot a few scarlet cherries hidden in the canopy later in the year - just moments before the pigeons do, usually.

This picture was taken from behind my window box. The Daffodils are thriving and soon they will be replaced by varying tulips, although they may be too late due to the cold to share their pink tones with my tree.