As we walked down the main alleyway toward the loud canned pop music stand blocking the steps to the cherry tree esplanade, we passed a young boy and girl. The boy who was a little older than his sister was poking her, then dodging out of her way so that she couldn’t get back at him. After this happened three times, the grandfather stood between them, took the girl’s hand and walked away.
Among the lilacs, Richard found the paler blossoms more fragrant. I thought I smelled the lilacs of my childhood there in Brooklyn. I love the shape of the blooms, carrying so many individual small florets to make up a curved cone that hangs heavy on the bough.
As we were leaving, we ran into a threesome, but the girl in the foreground stands out.