I'm sure you heard it. A rushing, a popping in the inner ear, a deep silence, a vacuum, then a sudden infusion of pollen-light scent. In the warm weather we had toward the middle of this week, the buds of the Callery pears and early cherries received the message: Open. Now.
As we walked down Bergen to the F, the white blossoms hinted at what was to come. In Brooklyn it was a white sky, bleak day, and I was not particularly looking forward to Central Park, our destination after an appointment on the Upper East Side...it was chilly, and the light was horrible for pictures.
What a difference a subway ride makes. The Upper East Side, of which I make some fun, was warmer, and sunny. There was actual blue sky, and their Callery pears were at least a day ahead of ours.
And then we walked east, crossing Lexington again, Park, Madison, 5th, and saw in the park, blossoms ahead. We drifted towards them.
Tall, old cherry trees, smothered in pale pink flowers. I can't wait to be told which cherry this is. They are at their absolute peak and I can't say that I have ever seen anything as lovely. I was in this spot just two weeks ago and I had no idea of what was to come. I have never seen these trees. You think you know a place and then you stand there on a different day and realize that for the one life you lead the park leads more.
Quite drunk, we walked into The Ramble. Ellen's post on Garden Bytes about knotweed not being ready early in the week had made me thinking about those two warm days inbetween. I just happened to have a paper bag and a sharp knife in my possession.
But more about that later. Very interesting. Several pounds of knotweed later I managed to look up and notice the sweet, wild flowers in the woods. The litter-free woods, I might add.
Above Mertensia virginica, Virginia bluebells.
I am in love with the little trout lilies (Erythronium americanum), spread under the trees, en masse, their shy heads and understated beauty making it impossible for me to consider eating their tubers, which apparently taste very good. I just couldn't do it. Knotweed, on the other paw, is a horrible (but delicious) weed.
Out of The Ramble and heading south to where I had assured Vincent organic hotdogs were sold, we crossed the bridge over the water where the chartreuse leaves of willow are just beginning to appear
Up a hill to more cherries.
And nearing The Plaza, the closed skating rink, and hot dogs, a crabapple preparing for the next act.
Organic beef and chicken and apple sausages on potato rolls.
Followed by a quick nip across to Wholefoods at Columbus Circle.
...where spring is very organized.
At Wholefoods we picked up hot cross buns, a bunch of daffodils ($2, in water, and billed as 'local'), and then ducked down into the the subway and took the A train home, a Central Park sax player's tune still in our ears.
For beautiful blossom pictures visit The Frenchman.