Fascinating of trees, the willows now,
Hung with silky aments along their bough.
Bearing scaly bracts with utmost pride,
Wearing white for the Palm Sunday tide.
Since I looked for trees in bloom,
Knowing that Easter will be upon us soon.
About the awakening woodland I stroll,
To see the willow trees as white as snow.
~Henery Renaldi~
According to a Polish legend, a mother cat was crying at the bank of a river where her kittens had fallen while chasing butterflies. The willow trees dipped their long slender branches into the water so that the kittens could hold on to it and be safely brought to shore. Every spring thereafter, the willow branches would sprout little furry buds at the places where the kittens once clung.
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