One bright morning, this very one in fact, I sit down at my desk to start writing a batch of triologism posts. The first one of those selected a week or two ago happens to be mirrored by the twittering of birds outside the window, on cherry trees full of budding blossoms preparing to bright-bloom and garland-droop.
Though mine are blossom-blushed rather than blanched.
‘… little birds were just twittering in the blossom-blanched orchard trees, whose boughs drooped like white garlands…’
Source: Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre (London: Bounty Books, 2012 (1847)), p. 279
