Well, flower petals to be exact.
When I was younger, I lived in a more rural area, on the side of a secluded cul-de-sac, with a rambling, steep driveway leading up to the house. The driveway was framed on either side with two or three cherry trees, and in spring the blossoms would arrive with their pale, creamy complexion. We barely noticed them until the day that they would all float down all at once, covering the ground with rose-tinted flurries. To me it was like walking through a mystical snowy land, and I would always have to pause to admire the beauty of it all. I would stand hypnotized, watching the petals float back and forth, forth and back, before gliding softly to the ground.
It's the sort of thing that I forget about each year until the day in spring when the petals are released from the tree's delicate clasp and swirled off into the wind.
Do you have any favorite spring-time memories?
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