There is a row of 11 bird cherry trees lining a section of Lad Lane in Dublin. I walk past them on my way to and from work on the days when I travel by Luas (other days I cycle).
They seem a little out of place. Lad Lane is an unprepossessing spot; a back alley running along the rear of the Georgian houses on Fitzwilliam Street, it’s a handy short cut for office workers in the morning and evening and the scene of unsavoury activities after dark. Not the kind of place where you would expect anyone to have planted a row of trees. But there they are.
And every year at the start of May, they mark the arrival of summer by bursting into fabulous bloom, their sweet honey-almond scent hanging heavy in the air, transcending for a few days the drabness of their setting.
On those few mornings, as I hurry along on my way to work, I catch the scent and look up to admire the display, and my spirit is lifted.