Seasonal white

At our old house so many years ago, my father planted a tree, a Japanese flowering plum or something of the like. When my parents razed our old house and built their dream home, they curved the driveway around the tree to spare it. Every Christmas we'd weave lights of white along its trunks and through its branches. Every Spring the tree blooms for a brief fantastic time of white. On Saturday I drove to the house to see what I knew was there, a tree my father planted, a tree in full and glorious bloom.