Driving through Jersey on Sunday, I fell in love with cherry blossoms, dogwoods, and magnolias. Rows and rows of baby pink and white trees fluttered in the breeze, blanket soft. One young tree stood sturdy and solitary in a field, his green-tipped white clusters reaching out, sunning. Another more mature tree blushed as she dropped some of her pink petals on a lawn. Countless other trees, their buds ready to flower, stood poised on country roads, backyards, parks, and on the edges of busy highways. When the wind passed through them, they swayed like they were grooving to a private song.
Trees want you to look and admire. We’re the same – you, me, and the trees.