I remember how every spring the hardy, but delicate, tree would bloom fantastically; its flowers always carpeted the ground beneath it. It provided a dappled shade in the side yard, and the sun danced between the leaves when a chilly, seasonal breeze would blow through. I have the most vivid memories of that tree; the most resplendent of these is a visual I have of looking up at the branches of the tree as a small child, perhaps of eight or nine years old. The branches were full with flowers, and I gazed at them from below. The sun gently back lit the blossoms, shining through their thin, gossamer petals and highlighting the bright yellow pollen on the tips of each slender stamen. The flowers shivered slightly in a crisp current, casting fluttering shadows across my face. I remember the pale, late winter sun warmed me slightly; some of the first warm sunlight I had felt since the winter months had come. The blossoms always arrived so quickly and thickly that the air hung with their intoxicating smell. The tree's perfume permeated the wind, so that for each quick moment that the air was still, the faint, wind-born aroma descended into a warm fragrance that covered my senses like a blanket. The scent, along with the ever-so-slight, wan warmth that the sun provided, caused me to revel in the moments when the wind would stop, creating such a silence. It was the kind of total, afternoon, sunlit stillness that makes you sleepy. Then, the breeze would begin to blow again; the heady, soporific calm suddenly becoming accompanied by the soft, tinkling sound of wind chimes. The gentle, melodious lullaby drifted on the breeze as flurries of petals floated down through the air, landed on my nose and cheeks, then flitted away again in the wind. The moment was fleeting, and then the sun would disappear behind our neighbor's house in its descent toward the horizon, plunging me into chilly, late afternoon shadow.
I recall this happening on more than one occasion. Oftentimes, I would stand, transfixed in this languid scene until the sun was gone, then I would hurry into my warm house to escape from the chill.
