My Morning Ride.

SometimesABlossomIsJustABlossom
AndSometimesItIsSomethingMoreVille


I got to thinking about it on the ride home last night...

And, you know, there are not many trees that I have loved.

One that I can think of was the laurel beside the big old house on Monterey avenue, in Victoria, where I grew up. A whole lot of climbing and clamouring and fort building and getting down of mewling cats went on in that twisted mass of trunks, branches and leaves.

****

And why was I thinking of something like that?

Well....

I had just taken in all the blossoms on the tree in the image above.

It really is an amazing tree, visually, both at this time of the year and in the fall when it's leaves turn first yellow, then orange, and, finally, go out in a blaze of fiery red, very late, after almost all of the other deciduous cousins nearby have already laid themselves bare.

But there's something else about that tree...

Which is that over the years it has stood on guard as a winking, waving sentry at the border between the Town and the City (at 16th and Blanca) as I head into work every morning.

These days I wave back as I ride by.

In the old days, back when we still had the VW (notso) Microbus, I used to park a stones throw away and salute it as I strolled on by.

Gosh.

It really is a crazy, mixed-up world we live in.

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