I declare it, officially, crabapple week. I adore them, and include them as often as possible in rooftop gardens. They are small in stature, beautifully formed, with character, not just straight- up-and-down, and have flowers ranging from spotless white to delicate pink to burgundy, with changes of colour as each flower opens, too; they bear fruit which, as Martha proved in lock-up, makes very good jelly, and then splash out in fall colour. Lovely little trees, and they are in full bloom.
This is at the entrance to Cobble Hill Park. Impeccably smooth, full, rounded blossoms on a curvaceously rounded tree. The Kate Winslet of trees.
Farther in, against the lane, pink-tinged blooms.
And on Congress, one door up from the flowering quince, deep burgundy flowers, reminding me of the crabapple that grew in Bloemfontein, long ago, against the high, white wall.