A White Blossom Pause

In April, the Priory blackthorn is a joy. It lights up a corner of the meadow, and whilst I might curse Prunus spinosa for most of the year, I certainly don't in spring. Why do I curse it?  Because it stabs me, that's why.  The thorns scratch my arms, stab my fingers and if tiny, difficult-to-get-out … Continue reading A White Blossom Pause