© Jessica Nichols, Sweet Eventide Photography
The sun peeks out from under a curtain of grey. Against the bleary sky, the fig and apple trees stretch and claw. Leprechaun green lichen creeps up the tree trunks. From their gnarled hands spring tiny green leaves, rings on a witch's fingers.
Pink blossoms perk from the plum tree and bees buzz amongst the white flowers of the as-yet-unplanted Asian pear tree.
The earth is alternatively sleek - a dried up slip n slide - or clumps of mud flung together by some unseen hand. Beneath the surface, worms muddle about, popping to the surface to escape the weeks' worth of rain lodged in the soil. They should have noodled back under, I think. Safer with the mud than with the chickens who waddle between my legs, hoping for a snack.
A small blue skipper dodges amongst the weeds and further up, in the old palm tree, bees emerge emit a constant hum. A bee hive, perhaps.
I checked the forecast this morning. Five days worth of suns lined up in a row, like corn planted by a careful farmer.
I checked my favorite garden books as well. Still plenty of time for peas. Borage, calendula and other bee friendly herb seeds can be sewn. Lettuce starts might wend their way between the pea strands. The packets of wildflower mixes - my pollinator gardens - bulge in my back pocket.
I pick up a trowel and a rake. Welcome spring.
Are you ready for me?