The huge old cherry trees in our front yard spend weeks working up to their great coming-out party, then, just like the debs at the cotillion, their moment passes. Some years we fail to pay proper heed, but not this time. With so many things wiped out or set back by our unusually harsh winter, the cherries commanded full attention.

Looking straight up, I catch glimpses of bright blue sky through the froth of blossoms, and am surrounded by the steady buzz of the bees at work.