almost pink

Last spring we beheld a pink bower of cherry blossoms only briefly: a torrent of wind & whipping rain left us bereft of their beauty before their beauty was spent.

Not so this year.

Three weeks ago I trekked through the soggy snow to bring in a craggy armful of bare branches. I stood them upright in a glass vase & plopped them in a sunny window, determined to coax them into an early spring.

We do what we can here in the semi-arctic tundra we call home.