Spring Break

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We interrupt mrpeenee as we do just about every year around this time to announce the Spring has arrived in San Francisco.   Each year we try to make the announcement with a cheery demeanor that manages to hide our smugness and each year, we fail.  Nyah, nyah, nyah, snowbound motherfuckers.  There are justifiable reasons why it costs so goddam much to live here:

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armies of cute boys,

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and a springtime that is what poets fumble around trying to describe.

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The cherry trees (and flowering plum trees, I can’t tell them apart) are the first outliers of the season and I shot these in two blocks of 18th Street.  Multiply that times the whole city and you get an idea of what I’m smug about.

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One great disappointment was this tiny cottage which has been a source of delight for years.   Since we first got here, the house was painted a soft pink and a medium sort of burgundy.  It was a fine color combination, no big deal, until the cherry trees in front of it bloomed and they were the exact same colors as the house.  It was amazing.  As a house owner and a gardener, matching the two seems like such an appealing idea, but I know how hard it would be to pull off.  Getting an exact shade of paint is almost impossible, getting TWO is a miracle.

And now, some idiot, who probably bough the house when the trees were out of flower, has painted it brown.  Just brown.  Too add salt to the wound, one of the two trees appears to be dead.   Possibly out of color-related grief.

Also a shame is that for some reason, Asian magnolias, which were also a harbinger of springtime and which were very common around town, seem to have sort of vanished,  This time of year, almost every block seemed to have one or two and now I don’t see them anywhere.  Golden Gate Park had a huge collection of them, including some from the Himalayas that were 50 feet tall.  The Arboretum, which housed most of them, moves things around a lot, to keep it fresh, a few years ago dug up a grove of them.  Mistake.  The grove was an example of how many varieties of them there are and I always thought it was charming in spring, the big pink and purple and white blooms on the bare branches; just lovely.

Still, I need to go out to the park.  Even a shut in can appreciate the beauties of spring.

 

20 responses »

  1. One benefit of a being a ‘snowbound motherfucker’ is that I am treated to both your blossoms, and a little later on (OK, a lot later on) my local extravaganza. Thank you for sharing your petal party.

    I think the ailing tree has shrugged to the indifferent shadow of concrete, crestfallen before the brown, the taking of its warm, reflected colour one straw too much to bear.

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  2. People have an aversion to trees that drop flowers and leaves. That may be why the neighborhood magnolias disappeared easier to cut them down.

    Our mild winter has the species daffodils I planted in the fall just coming into flower. They only grow to 4” in height. As I get older little flowers are starting to appeal to me more than the big showy stuff I use to like.

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  3. It was warmer here than it was in Lost Angeles last night. But it still won’t really seem like spring until the lilacs are in bloom. Maybe because it’s snowed as late as Mother’s Day…besides, cherry blossoms look nice until they dump buckets of pollen on one’s head.

    In any event, Mr. P., you do need to get out to the park so you can enjoy the armies of cute boys. Bring your binoculars.

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