Reveling in the ephemeral abundance of flowers

Our crab apple is flowering, more buds than we have ever had before. It literally looks like it is covered in snow. All grown from a volunteer seed that a volunteer bird ate inside a nearby crab apple and deposited in our front lawn (in a perfectly selected spot, I might add). The volunteer is now at least five years old, finally flourishing, and bursting with its pink buds and white flowers.
Whitman said in his “Song of Myself,”
“Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems.”
Today I say, “Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all apples,” because in fact, the apple we eat is descended from the crab apple through thousands of years of cultivating. No wonder there were apples growing on the Tree of Knowledge. It had taken a lot of human intelligence and patience to nurture tasty and large apples from the small and sour fruit of the apples’ not-so-distant relatives.
But for now, reveling in the ephemeral abundance of the flowers is more than enough.
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