This is so devilishly tricky to capture. A whole road of badly pruned (ie unpruned) cherry trees.
It’s like gazing at a photograph of yourself with a really bad haircut.
And let me leap in at once and say that I didn’t plant these monsters. And it’s too late to do any remedial improvements.
So I’ll just enjoy them for their glorious glow.
That one in front is an almond. The perfume is gorgeous. And behind, the plums.
And here a nice close up of the vine peach which is glowing merrily in the hedge.
You see pink blossom. I see a reminder on my list that I need to weed the hedge.
That’s spring for you. Explosions of delights. And the last week or so of getting on top of the annual weeds before they become outrageously out of control.
Here is my apricot I’m trying to train against the slatted wood lean-to.
A sort of yah boo hiss at the cherries ten feet away. I have to keep it behind the wire as the deer cruise past. Which is a shame as it utterly ruins the elegant look of an almost espaliered fruit tree.
And on this, the dreadful planned but postponed Brexit day, I think there is nothing more sensible than admiring the blossom and avoiding the bigger picture. The bigger political picture.