I was out walking my favourite route this week (ie, through the explosion of white blossom that lines the lanes of my daily walk) and stopped dead in my tracks.
I stared aghast at the ground.
As I rounded a bend that leads to the canal, I saw a spray of hawthorn blossom petals across the ground, cast aside by the thunderstorm of the previous day. Tiny rou…
Originally published on Substack
