Friend Mary and I were tooling down Ashby on the way to some forgotten, at the moment, garden adventure. I yelled, "Stop! I've got to get those cherry blossoms."
A little lens flare sneaked in here.
Then the sun hid behind a cloud.
Hello again Mr. Sun, and old house who has seen how many blossoming springs?
There is no stranger under the cherry tree.
Thank you Mary for your willingness to stop the car on a friend's whim.