Each branch is loaded with white blossoms that make me think of snow and lace and romance.
I am enchanted with the play of light on the blossoms, the blur of bees surrounding the tree, the bright green winter grass flecked with white fallen petals as if strewn by the hand of a whimsical flower girl.
My beguilement lasts until I walk out the front door. I know from past experience that this vision of loveliness is going to smell like a boatload of decaying mackerel, but somehow the charm of the vision gives me olfactory amnesia.
This morning I decided I would write a poignant blog with all kinds of wonderful lessons learned about beautiful things that smell ugly...and how beauty is only nostril deep.
But since I write my blog in my office, the tree is beckoning from the front yard in an enthralling fashion telling me, "I am so beautiful...you were mistaken...I smell like apple blossoms falling into a blooming patch of hyacinth"...
And there remains nothing left for me to do here except make Mr. Jenny go out and take a big whiff of that lovely tree just to be sure I wasn't mistaken. And until I have him check, I think I just better not try to share any lessons learned today.