Apricot blossom, hanging on.
Well, hello, Spring! Welcome to our yard. You’re sneaky, and you caught us off-guard. We’ve been so engrossed in this thing called WORK, we haven’t had a chance to fully absorb you yet. Just a few more days, and we will be free from this task (oh please, oh please, I hope), which has taken far too long.
Pretty pink nectarine flowers.
I’ve seen you coming. I’ve watched through the windows, and I’ve noticed little signs on my bike rides and runs. I knew for sure you’d arrived when, one day, I suddenly realized an absence of snow geese and cranes. Even the crows are fewer now. And then: that troupe of female red-winged blackbirds, descending upon our tree, scaring all the locals, filling the yard with chatter.
More than 100 female red-winged blackbirds feeding at our tree. They came, they ate, they fled.
But, Spring, I worry you’ve come just a little too soon. It still gets chilly at night, and you know what happens if your flowers freeze. Remember last year? No fruit.
And I fear for the butterflies and bees. We’ve seen many in our yard so far, but…. what happens next year? And the year after that?
Chinese chives, poking up.
I admit, I’m liking our salads these days: fresh green onions, savory and chives. (And that breakfast tortilla w/melted white Irish cheddar, shallot, parsley and rosemary—yum!) By next week, we might even have young arugula leaves.
But, Spring, you are setting all manner of records this year; you’re even drawing new maps. I’m concerned about where you’re heading with this. We love having you here—but you’re freaking us out.
So tell us, Spring: what do you have planned for us?