11x14 oil on canvas plein air.
For some reason the people in my home town loved these trees. As kids we used them in sling shots and just to throw at each other. The branches were hollow except for some pith which came out easily to make a straw or a blowgun. I never noticed the blossoms when I was a kid.
Artists can only paint what they notice.  Noticing is a part of being in the moment.  You are SUPPOSED to stop and smell the roses. This one grew outside my bedroom window on the farm.