I'm in love.
We met last year, shortly after I moved to this tiny house. It was a fairly quick infatuation on my part, fading somewhat as the days shortened and winter crept in.
Now it's spring again, and everyone knows just where a young woman's fancy turns lightly to in spring. As Charles Schultz says, oh-so-eloquently,
*sigh*.
Pacific Dogwood has captured my heart. Everywhere I look this month, those pale creamy or soft, rosy bracts are bobbing in the breeze, or bejeweled by the light rain, jostling and waving in an all-too-successful attempt to capture my eye. They are so compelling that I am stooping to deceitful behaviour. Last weekend in the early evening, I unabashedly lied to my dear husband. I told him that I was going to sit out on the patio with glass of wine to enjoy the lingering daylight. Hah! A likely story.
In fact, I was eager to spend more time gazing at the tall specimen in our yard. It's come into bloom (into bract?), and is beauteous to behold. I noticed last year that the crows were actually breaking off thinner branches; for nest building, I suppose. Our tree appears a bit slighter this year. Perhaps I'll need to shoo away those meddlesome corvids.
I was delighted to find that my 1990 World Book classifies my crush as Cornus Muttallii. A fitting moniker, I thought gleefully, for a Dogwood. Moments later, modern-day technology disabused me of this whimsical notion and gently corrected the species name to Cornus Nuttallii.
Drat. I think I'll stick with old book knowledge on this one. I prefer the prior designation.
