The sap is rising, the geese are getting fat. Or it feels that way to me anyway. I'm still not in tune with the seasons here. One the one hand:
a pear tree in blossom, definitely spring. And:
the new, rhubarb-coloured leaves, tender and gleaming, on the roses. That says spring too. On the other hand:
broad beans (aka fava, liver and chianti beans) also in blossom. This means summer. As does:
rosemary covered with flowers and bumblebees. And in the vegetable garden:
cabbages, brussel sprouts, cos lettuce, self-seeded rocket, garlic almost ready to harvest and chard that's been in there for a year and is still going strong. What season is that? I'll tell you. It's the season they were watching out for in The Chrysalids; it's cats and dogs and ghostbusters. In short, it's no' right.
And then there's the fact that there are houseplants outside in the open air acting like they're not houseplants at all:
Ah well, that's California for you. And I've got the poppies to prove it: