I compare them. This one is a tiny bit more...., but that one is a tiny bit more in a different way.
My eyes drift away. I talk to my partner. I look back at the stunningly beautiful blossoms. I can't hold it.
Finally, i go to bed. I can no longer see them, except in my memory, which is not nearly so vivid as the real thing. My memory turns into a story about the purity of the beautiful flowers.
You can only take so much beauty before you become satiated. Enough. Beauty loses its oomph.
Until next year.