The cherry blossom trees have started blooming in London, which to me always feels like a kind of religious experience after winter. I consider cherry blossoms in the same category as the deep emerald green of a mallard duck’s neck, the always-pleasantly-surprising fact that citrus fruit is in season in winter, and the stop-you-in-your-tracks smell of a jasmine bush. In other words: Evidence that whatever serves as the organizing intelligence for the universe really wants us to stop and smell the proverbial roses.
'Not the seeds that I planted'
'Not the seeds that I planted'
'Not the seeds that I planted'
The cherry blossom trees have started blooming in London, which to me always feels like a kind of religious experience after winter. I consider cherry blossoms in the same category as the deep emerald green of a mallard duck’s neck, the always-pleasantly-surprising fact that citrus fruit is in season in winter, and the stop-you-in-your-tracks smell of a jasmine bush. In other words: Evidence that whatever serves as the organizing intelligence for the universe really wants us to stop and smell the proverbial roses.