Clinton Street Blossoms

The magnolias are starting to bloom, and this year, perhaps under the influence of the Japanese films I’ve been watching at Film Forum, I’m finding them a bit too rich for my blood. The ripe fleshiness is more blowsy than sensual. And the ghostly white ones nod towards the terrors of the “Whiteness of the Whale” chapter in Moby Dick. (The pink ones? Well, I try to keep this blog rated PG…. ) So I’m glad the local fruit trees are flowering. These subtle but confident blooms have no need to be gaudy trumpets. Nor do they rot on the ground like banana peels when they’re done. Rather, they fall like a gentle snow. These two were on Clinton Street in Brooklyn Heights yesterday.
I miss the quince that was on my street until it was assassinated last year.