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Our gnarled old apple tree has done itself proud. Each year it produces a few mean, maggotty little apples which I throw away, too squeamish to sit down with a knife like my grandmother used to do.
In a nearby road the cherry blossom trees are in full flower. I took this photo standing beneath one of them. I remembered a Pause for Thought on Radio 2 last year, where a Japanese woman with a hypnotic whisper talked about the significance of these trees in Japan. Parties are held and people picnic with tea lights beneath the blossom.
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