” When the sweetness of spring comes “

The carriage rattles down the long allée. There is a small cold nip in the air but the clear spring sun shines brightly through the window.

Kerstin starts to fiddle with her hat and straights out her forget me not blue bodice. She smacks her lips, it has been a long journey and it will be so nice to see her cousin again. Carl is gazing out at the new budding trees. The young spring is always such a fireworks. Yes the allée started with a couple of fine thick sturdy oaks. The oaks have such craft in their trunks. then it was a sycamore with its sweet sticky flowers. Chestnuts with their floppy fragile young green leaves nearly too fragile to touch.

Then Carl spots an ash, its greyish grooved bark, its elegant drooping branches. He alights to the edge of the field. The field is brown, dry and newly sown. He looks up at an outstretched twig. A small light gust blows and a light dust wisps away with the wind. Ah! the tree is in bloom. The flower has plum purple capsules arranged similarly to a cauliflower, reminiscent of wine grapes. when it flowers the capsules break and leave behind an hairy empty stem.

The silver flower motifs buttons on his waistcoat glisten in the sharp sunlight. Carl brushes the finger of his suede glove across the cluster. It becomes dusted with yellow. he reaches into the carriage and brushes the yellow onto to Kerstin´s lower lip. Pollen my dear.

She wets her lips.