These are blooms from my late-bloomer (better-late-than-never) Pear tree. For many years it never bloomed. I planted a Red Bud when I learned I was pregnant with my son. That tree was a seedling from my maternal grandmother, who had planted many other seedlings-from-seedlings over the years. Later on I planted this one for the daughter I always dreamed of carrying. So when I never held her in my arms ... and the tree never bloomed ... it was "poetic reality" ... Thus, the blooms are all the more special to me now! And I will hold her in Heaven ...
It is never too late to be what you might have been. —George Eliot
