The white ornamental plum trees near my house are in perfect peak bloom. Look as lovely as any Pissarro in the early morning low light. As I drove to a soccer game I realized how for me impressionists like Pissarro capture permanently something I will get to see maybe sixty times in my life - the one day in spring when a mature ripe flowering tree is as beautiful as glorious as numbing as a truly stunning woman. These days, if you are observant and if the weather and lighting is correct, are as rare as anything. Visual natural lotto.
Most people miss it. Ephemeral but on canvas. Oil pigments properly presented always provide something missing from photographs of blossoms.
Far from anything glorious - here is a little sketch:
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