The year is not getting any younger. It would have been wise to prune the apples some weeks (months?) ago, but the building felt so all-consuming, the idea of taking a few hours, even in the rain, never crossed my mind. But some of the apples are beginning to bloom, and Phil had a bit of extra time on his hands today, so he headed up to at least take care of suckers (growth from the roots) or dead branches.
I haven't been in the orchard in months, and I was amazed at what I saw.
Some blossoms were totally white.
Most had bits of pink and white.
Such a pretty combination
I saw a shockingly pink bud.
The upper rows glowed green with health, a beautiful four or five inches of grass and clover thickly covering the orchard floor.
Not every tree has blossoms, and even those that do are not covered, but the whites and the greens: it's spring!
I saw my first crimson clover of the season, that beautiful flower that the bees adore.
While I was leaning in to take a photo, I thought I was stung by a bee, but it turned out to be a cricket, either pinching my leg or chewing on me. Ouch! (And my leg is not normally that dirty, but we had just been wrangling Belle and her baby, which left me more muddy than normal.)
My little comfrey patch is filling in. Less than eleven months old, those plants left beautiful circles of black soil around them as they composted down during the winter. I weeded a bit around some: it looked like mustard setting seed, probably from my garden compost.
And the pulsing green, the spring green, was all around.
During those long weeks that I stayed in bed, I would sometimes find myself visiting random wedding photographers, just in search of something pretty to look at. Perhaps what I was missing was just the beauty in my own place in this world, invisible from a sick bed.
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