Blossoming

On my way around the Labyrinth at Malling Abbey I noticed the blossom just emerging on the apple trees. In my garden is an aging damson tree which has looked increasingly poorly over the last couple of years, weeping resin and sprouting bracket fungi on the branches. In the autumn I cut off a couple of the dead branches and found them partly soft and papery inside. A horticultural friend suggests the tree may be reaching the end of its life; certainly there are two smaller trees in the garden which are probably daughters of this one, so it's been around a while. But this year it's decided to blossom again, for at least one more go. I look out of the window of the small bedroom while saying my prayers in the morning, and see it, a slightly ghostly presence against the dark of the big trees beyond. It has a sort of bravery and persistence.