There's something special about spring flowers, perhaps because they are with us for such a short amount of time. Fruit and pea blossoms are included in the list, of course. Who can deny the beauty of a cherry tree, flocked in white? Or an apple tree, lightly scented. Then you have lilacs which carry the magic spell of making winter seem short lived and far away. My mother used to make us sneak over to the neighbor's yard, because, as children, we were short enough to crouch on the east side of their bush and clip away, bunches of sweet smelling purple dropping into our lifted shirts like sachets.
Less fragrant are tulips and daffodils. With vibrant colors and waxy petals, these flowers are almost like some creation by Lewis Caroll that Alice would find and take a chomp out of.
Then come the pansies. Soft and sweet, hardy through the still frosty nights with pastel Monet colors and little faces like children looking up to their mother: the sun.
But these will all fade, when the wild flaming colors of summer come marching through with bayonets of pollen and thorns; jutting and stretching across the garden in search of water and dirt and sun.