CHERRY TREE SARCASM

As I was climbing on the motorbike early this morning for the trip down the mountain to await the high-speed train that would take me encased in steel to a girdered office high in the heart of the big city where I would spend all day wrangling with billions of bytes of bits, the newly blooming cherry tree in our garden stood in majesty beneath the pale blue sky, pink blossoms alight with the gold of the morning sun, their delicate fragrance borne to me on the same soft spring breeze that moved the tree's blossom-laden boughs in what I took to be a distinctly sarcastic gesture under the circumstances.

In the mockery of rich morning air, laden with all the Spring countryside fragrances that take time and focus to fully distinguish and savor, the tree persisted in waving to me, its arms derisively full of soft, short-lived blossoms, in effect saying in its arboreally ironic way Goodbye, Bob! Sorry you have to miss all this! Have fun in the office today! I'll take care of all the beautiful and fragrant things while you're hacking at important keyboard stuff or whatever! See you tonight, in the dark!

Cherry tree sarcasm can be vicious.