I am Caution's hybrid Japanese Cherry Something Something else tree. See the graft scar from some would-be botanist or dendrologist or arborist a generation ago?
Forget Hollywood and its created beauty. Around here for two days every May, I am the center of the universe.
I am gorgeous.
I am fragrant.
I am worth the 363 day wait to see.
My owners try to take my picture. They focus conversation on my beauty. Then they all grab tissues. I pretend it is because they are moved by my beauty and ignore their complaints about pollens and such.
And then, all too quickly, I'm done.
Exhausted, I drop my petals and decorate for these people. Of course, it's not quite enough to compensate for their decorating choices, but I do my best.
I roll my tree eyes as Checkered repeatedly clears certain filters of my detritus,
and I smile inwardly as he relaxes thinking the worst is over.
You see, it's just a matter of weeks until the cherries come out and I invite every bird in the state of Michigan to come for the feast. It will be such fun to hear my people step on the pits and yell about their tender feet and grumble about the way the birds decorate the furniture.
I am Caution's hybrid Japanese Cherry Something Something else tree, and I seriously own this family.