Full of Purple Blossoms :: One Hundred Thirty Eight
This is our other jacaranda tree, which always blooms just a bit later than the one by the barn. Today I was counting trees I pass between schools, the market, and home... I lost count, but each one is a delight to spy, so it is a happy game.
Close and Closer, details, for Cyndy...
The flowers in the jacaranda trees appear prettier, and prettier, the closer you look. Soft trumpets, gracefully arching from their stems, their little stamens like magic wands with wispy, flourished tips. I breathed them in, but detected no fragrance. It seems to me that they should emit a hint of confection, like a violette pastille. The bees are collecting something sweet, and they seem in an unhurried stupor as they drift, not quite busily, through the abundance. Standing beneath the canopy of this tree, I watched blossom after blossom descend, like snowflakes, slowly. A graceful bow at the end of a beautiful dance. The walk was swept last Saturday, though you might not guess, looking at our rust and lavender path.