Yes, just like raindrops. I always liked that song, but also
felt a bit annoyed by its positivity. I don’t much like rain, and it rarely
puts me in a good mood. However, as the lyrics go, “I’m never gonna stop the
rain by complainin…”
Same with pear blossom petals, which are decidedly more pleasant
when they land on one’s noggin. However…pear blossoms wafting in the gentle
spring breeze remind me of something unsettling. And that is…you guessed it!
The fact that spring is moving on down the road and once again everything is
changing.
Pear blossoms also have a very short lifespan. I happen to
have four pear trees on my tiny plot of New Jersey land, a miracle in itself
(and, they are all different kinds, each bearing fruit, albeit wormy fruit). I
adore my pear trees, and each year eagerly await the blossoms (some years they
are scanty, but this spring they are plentiful, or perhaps I should say were plentiful, as even as I write this post
the wind is blowing the petals to the ground).
The blossoms are lovely to behold—but they also mean there
will be many, many pears to harvest (else my yard will be filled with bees and
smushed pears). This year the trees blossomed late—everything is behind by
about two weeks in my neck of the woods. Though late, they didn’t stick around
any longer than usual. In less than a week, the blossoms began to behave like
snow.
Pear blossom snow is delightful, but as I said, it does mean
that it’s over. Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or birthdays. Or
childhood. Infancy. Ice cream cones. Whiskers
on kittens…oops, no, that’s another song.
I know I must buck up and accept it. Like everything
else, pear blossoms come and go. Everything changes, nothing stays the same,
and life moves on. We wouldn’t want our children to be in diapers forever
(would we?). We wouldn’t want to be having teenaged crushes forever (er, would
we?). We wouldn’t even want to be middle-aged and at the height of our career forever…because even that, after a
while, would get draining and tiring and tedious. To everything there is a
season, as the wise ones said, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
And so, I bid a fond farewell (for this year) to the pear blossoms.
Fortunately, blessedly, and most thankfully, I bid them au revoir at the same time
as I welcome my lilacs, which are just beginning to open their gentle, and
likewise ephemeral buds. As always, as we say good-bye we are also whispering hello.
