One Misty Moisty Morning

Early this morning I took one of my 45-minute aerobic walks through the Stray. Once on the Stray the view was intriguing. As I stood on Slingsby Walk along a row of stone houses, ahead of me lay the grassy stretches of Harrogate's largest park. In the distance was a line of trees, their forms shrouded in mist and fog. The fog not only threw a veil over my view, it muted the noise of traffic, so that it felt I was on a tranquil grassy island washed clean with dew. I continued on to the avenue of the leaning cherry trees. There are actually two avenues of cherry trees, and the trees on each path lean permanently in the direction of the relentless North Yorkshire wind. The trees are in full bloom now and their blossoms are a startling shade of pink. It's a pink that seems should not exist in nature. A pink meant for Hostess Snoballs and Necco Wafers. Whole clumps of blooms had been strewn by wind and rain onto the grass. I bent over and gathered a few. I brought them home and set them afloat in a bowl of water.