It is April, isn’t it?

This is not going to be a happy flower.

Housebound.  Just as we thought it was time to get some early planting done, BAM!  Nature had another idea – and what an idea that was: snow.  I wouldn’t say we were buried with just an inch of snow, but in all honestly, we are only hours away from May, so this is a little off.  We were stuck inside all day long watching the snow fall and counting the hours down when we could perhaps have a cocktail without sounding worrisome.  All our garden plans have been put on hold for the meanwhile as the snow melts and things dry off. 

The strawberries I planted last week are going to hate us…

We can barely see the mountains in front of us.

This flower is not too happy either.

Passing the hurdle

This is how it starts each year, or least for the last few years for me.  Tomatoes are seeded and we wait patiently for the moment they are big enough to make the transfer to the greenhouse outside, a temporarily stop before they are permanently planted in the garden for the summer.  At this moment, I think the plants will never make it to the garden; they’ve been indoors for 5 weeks now and I wonder why they’re not bigger.  I forget that doubt each year, because by September, with their towering green jungle like foliage, they create a single maze within I can barely walk to water them.  Last summer, I swear I heard a whisper, “Seymore, feed me…”

This is the season where the sounds change.  The buzz of cutting wood is replaced by the sound of someone tilling the garden, roosters go crazy, and the songbirds have come back to nest.  The days are warming, but the air can still be cool; all it takes is the sun ducking behind a cloud or wind from the north to remind us we haven’t yet passed the hurdle.

The tender greens on the trees bring hope; reminding us of spring’s eternal youth; browns slowly start to fade; and the sky turns a brilliant blue.  We have turned the corner on the hardships of the season and can now wax nostalgically about a blazing fire or a filling winter dinner, but haven’t yet forgotten the Siberian winds that rattled the windows or the blanketing snow.  We are close enough to a new beginning to change our focus and look eagerly to begin outdoors, dirty hands and all.

Into the Mist

Spring brings a lot of changes in the weather, and one of the most intriguing is the fog.  Many mornings, we wake up to low hanging clouds that envelope the village.  They rest eerily right in front of us, distorting our view across the square or completely blocking out the mountains that face us.  Colors stops at the end of the terrace, ten feet in front of us, where the world plummets into a hazy gray.

Then, the morning mist slowly starts to burn away.  The sun fights to make its way through, sometimes it wins, other times it doesn’t.  The haze lifts, hovering on the mountain crest, revealing the lower ridges emerging with spring’s green growth.  By midday, the fog has passed; blue skies appear and colors burst with spring’s eternal promise.

Other times, the fog stays.  Clouds rise and fall like the ebb and flow of the ocean.  Moving quickly, the clouds rush in swallowing up all the color and light, only to give way again letting a burst on sunshine make its way through temporarily.  The clouds retaliate and move in with a surge of energy that gives the notion that it is a living creature fighting for its life.  It mutes out the hues and blankets the landscape again with its wispy forms.  This ballet lasts all day long, finally only giving in to the waning light of the approaching night.

 

The fog casts a foreboding air wherever it hangs; but in an ancient village, where thousands of lives once toiled to create the stone facades I now see, it adds an almost wicked dimension.  As if around any corner a phantom of a deceased inhabitant is shrouded in the mist, watching.  The stories are numerous, and the fog gives birth to ghost stories and haunting to an active imagination.

The Peach Blossoms

There is a growing pink haze starting to take over the barren fields: peach blossoms.  These early bloomers often follow almond and apricot trees which have already started to flower, but are predecessors to other local fruits, such as cherries, apples, and plums.  The region is full of orchards, particularly peach orchards, and their glowing pink hues are a welcomes sight as a countdown to the official first day of spring.