The sight of blossom against a bright blue sky is one of the joys of spring, and the right tree will keep on giving year after year

Just shy of three years ago, I planted a cherry tree in my garden. It was the result of a deeply postpartum, vaguely chaotic research mission: to find a tree that was small yet substantial enough for my compact London garden. I wanted a pollution-hardy tree with flowers the right shade of pale pink that would bloom around the time of my newborn son’s vernal equinox birthday. Celebrating a baby’s new arrival with a tree or a shrub is one of the most romantic, and hopefully enduring, gifts one can give.

I chose a Prunus ‘Accolade’ ( pictured above ). It feels funny to associate that tree with the boisterous little boy I live with. But the blossom was undeniably magic. There was a window on our stairway that framed it perfectly. Every time we popped up or down we got a hit of candyfloss pink. Six months later, when we marked his half-years with the autumn equinox, the tree’s leaves would begin to turn golden.

The sight of blossom against a bright blue sky is one of the joys of spring, and the right tree will keep on giving year after year

Just shy of three years ago, I planted a cherry tree in my garden. It was the result of a deeply postpartum, vaguely chaotic research mission: to find a tree that was small yet substantial enough for my compact London garden. I wanted a pollution-hardy tree with flowers the right shade of pale pink that would bloom around the time of my newborn son’s vernal equinox birthday. Celebrating a baby’s new arrival with a tree or a shrub is one of the most romantic, and hopefully enduring, gifts one can give.

I chose a Prunus ‘Accolade’ ( pictured above ). It feels funny to associate that tree with the boisterous little boy I live with. But the blossom was undeniably magic. There was a window on our stairway that framed it perfectly. Every time we popped up or down we got a hit of candyfloss pink. Six months later, when we marked his half-years with the autumn equinox, the tree’s leaves would begin to turn golden.

The sight of blossom against a bright blue sky is one of the joys of spring, and the right tree will keep on giving year after year

Just shy of three years ago, I planted a cherry tree in my garden. It was the result of a deeply postpartum, vaguely chaotic research mission: to find a tree that was small yet substantial enough for my compact London garden. I wanted a pollution-hardy tree with flowers the right shade of pale pink that would bloom around the time of my newborn son’s vernal equinox birthday. Celebrating a baby’s new arrival with a tree or a shrub is one of the most romantic, and hopefully enduring, gifts one can give.

I chose a Prunus ‘Accolade’ ( pictured above ). It feels funny to associate that tree with the boisterous little boy I live with. But the blossom was undeniably magic. There was a window on our stairway that framed it perfectly. Every time we popped up or down we got a hit of candyfloss pink. Six months later, when we marked his half-years with the autumn equinox, the tree’s leaves would begin to turn golden.