Fragility or eternity?

Coaxed by early spring sunshine, a flower bud eventually opens to yield its treasure. Moisture-laden tendrils of fog swirl around it as the gloaming gathers. Glistening dew-drops appear on its silky snow-white petals.

In the fullness of the night, under the ceaseless watch of the cold and distant stars, the air turns ever more chill. In time, tiny crystals of ice appear in each dew droplet. Shivering imperceptibly, their gelid spears pierce the water. Growing, until at last droplets are transfixed in their cruel wintry embrace.

Cream petals, the delicate tendrils of stamens; impossibly delicate fragile creations. Unfolded to emit the sweetest of scents - to waft them abroad. Yet, here, encased - entombed - in winter's numbing and glacial grip. Fists of bitter chill encompass exquisite gossamer blossom.

At the night's end, the sun, engenderer of all, gradually rises above the horizon. The warmth of its revitalising rays promise release from the ice's algid sepulchre. Yet, this golden promise carries a deadly peril. For surely, as the frost yields its grip, the pulverised remnants of this elegant blossom will surely just fall apart?

Thankfully, that is not the case. The blossoms of Prunus cerasifera are considerably more tenacious and durable than that. First known in south eastern Europe and west Asia, where it is often found clinging to barren mountain slopes, it is well-adapted to both poor, thin soil, and sharp frosts occurring sometimes well into the spring.

The cherry plum tree, sometimes called the myrobalan plum, meaning 'plant juice and nut', is so adaptable though that it has readily naturalised to many places that people have taken it for cultivation: for example, north-western Europe and the north-east & west of the United States. It has been bred into various different kinds of ornamental strains (the photos in this article are of the species), some with pink flowers, and purple leaves; it has sometimes as a result been called the 'purple plum'.

Often blossoming well in advance of other members of the same genus, and indeed many other fruit trees, it is known as a harbinger of spring. Its blossoms are wind- and frost-resistant, and persist on the tree for several weeks. Flowers are borne singly, in the shape of a flattened bowl. This arrangement is most suitable for bees with short tongues, like the honey bee.

Pollinated flowers mature in the summer into individual fruits, two to three centimetres wide, on comparatively long stalks. Their smooth and thin skins are yellow, maturing to a deep red blush as they ripen. Although not dissimilar to the size of cherries, they have a taste and texture somewhat similar to mirabelle plums.

Unripe cherry plums are prized in some parts of the world for adding sourness to certain dishes, for example soups. The riper fruits are sweeter, and can sometimes be eaten straight off the tree; or else used for making jams, preserves, pies, or fermented drinks. Studies have shown potential for the fruits to be used for juice extraction on account of their high levels of antioxidants. They are also a good source of dietary potassium, and provide all-round nutrition.

Perhaps these wonderfully resilient blossoms can act as a metaphor.

Just like these pale blooms, a person's life is often thought of as fragile, while being beautiful. There is a trembling dichotomy, a delicious tension - bitter-sweet - between the beauty of life's colourful and exquisite experiences, and its fragility and vulnerability. Sweet-smelling, yet liable to being snatched away at a moment's notice. This theme was explored by Keats, as described in this article.

What if, instead of ice-bound mortality, of a kind likely to be snuffed out at any time at the whim of fate or forces beyond our ken, human life could be thought of as more resilient, tougher, more long-lasting than we had thought? It might then be easier to take decisions favouring other people we don't know, or for the benefit of future generations.