It is the kind of tree Chuang Tzu wrote about as seemingly worthless to some people because it could never be turned into straight lumber. But this condition meant that it would surely outlive the more “perfect” trees.
It is also the kind of tree that is prized for its blossoms and its shade (and its gnarly fruit, if only by the neighborhood squirrels).
The blossoms are out again, a dazzling display of delicate white. They will always remind me of one of my daughter’s birthday parties.
She was very young, maybe seven or eight. It was a Saturday afternoon party. She and her friends were in the backyard, tossing big rubber balls into the apple tree, running, laughing and screaming beneath the resulting shower of blossoms.
It remains one of the most life-affirming images I have ever experienced.