Drifts of Eastern Redbuds

"I never before knew the full value of trees.  My house is entirely embossed in high plane trees, with good grass below, and under them I breakfast, dine, write, read and receive my company."

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826)

My, but I love the image this evokes.   I have tried to create a similar setting on my tiny lawn...

though mine are not high plane trees, rather a drift of small redbuds...Eastern redbuds to be exact.  I prefer them over the more strident (and in my mind, less charming) 'Oklahoma' redbuds so popular here.  

They encircle the dining area in my small back yard. Seven in all.

The grandaddy redbud, now arthritic and damaged, is still beautiful in its aging fragility and shades my garden bench by the hydrangeas.

It begat three seedlings that I have nurtured and pruned and pampered into beautiful adolescence.

One, right outside the french doors from which Husband watches the birds as he sits in his man-chair by the fire.

I've sculpted them all into lovely little trees, with Japanesque, arching branches, clipped to see through and beyond them into the garden. 

One of the other two progeny lightly shades a small herb garden just off the dining area...the second delicately wraps itself around the southwest corner of the studio.  

The three of them are a mere inch or two from touching one another, forming a canopy of pink so lovely it hurts.

I consume this loveliness as I do the dishes and daydream and watch the birds and squirrels and think about my garden chores.

The final two (in case you're counting), I actually purchased and planted two years ago.  The east side felt incomplete without them. Their canopy now tops the fence and you can see their blooming branches as you come down the drive.

Such a delight they are...SUCH a delight.