This is not news – the cherry tree in my garden never fails to blossom, despite my neglect.
We are so lucky to be “locked down” in rural Slingsby. Even luckier, if we have a decent garden. Spare a thought for those families who may be living in towns and have no gardens.
Perhaps a little poetry might help:
(from A Shropshire Lad, by A E Houseman)
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.