blossom

At last they lingered on one away to the left, far back from the road, dimly white with blossoming trees in the twilight of the surrounding woods.

Of course, it won’t always be in blossom, but one can imagine that it is, can’t one?”

Silas Sloane’s place, the Mayflowers blossomed out, pink and white stars of sweetness under their brown leaves.

One June evening, when the orchards were pink blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window.