A rainy Sunday morning — March 27 — and seeing the first of the dogwood blossoms in my front yard.
When we first moved into this house, 24 years ago, the dogwoods gave us quite a show each year as March gave way to April.
Now, they’re old and gnarly and losing steam. Some of the largest in the bunch have died.
Dogwoods have a short lifespan. They live about as long as a human being.
I don’t have any grandchildren (yet), so I’m thinking about planting a few new dogwood trees, taking care of my body, and trying to live long enough to see the show again.
In the meantime, I’ll appreciate the fullness up and down the street — and continue to love and enjoy these old trees in my yard. They’re doing the best they can.