My mother liked to paint in watercolors and became quite adept at it. In North Carolina in the sixties, there was no dearth of beautiful, well-kempt gardens on some of the large postbellum estates. I remember roaming endlessly through mazes made of impenetrable hedges while she painted. Being a Type A, ADD handful, I could not be left in the care of my sisters.
This afternoon I went down to the orchard to see what was afoot. Sixteen squadrons of Mason bees were busy making strafing passes over the trees. Slow stumble bees were blindly flying through like B-52s on the verge of stalling. The only thing missing was a FAC to direct the strikes on the blossoms.
High Season in the Orchard has been declared. This is for Kel and Renee who can’t be here to see and smell it.
As Mom said, “Spring is like Christmas. You don’t have to wrap anything up- and best of all- it unwraps itself.”