Cherry blossom snow blankets the bank of the pond. And witches and goblins decide our future. We live in absurd times. But I suppose humans through the ages have always thought their time was particularly absurd.

I never thought I’d see the day when modern judges recite Medieval texts or the foreign judge, Mathew Hale, 1609-1676, from centuries ago who argued such blithering nonsense as the existence of laws against witches is proof that witches exist. Really? You’re going to base your argument on a judge from the 1600s who thought that? And yet our highest judges think these are perfectly reasonable reasons to back up their rulings. We might as well leave our fate up to goblins and such.

Spring is still cool with clouds, sprinkles, rain, and downpours nearly every day. So when the sun comes out I record it, just so I have proof that blue sky does exist and that somewhere a sun does shine.

The apples are a riot of color. They can be as beautiful as cherry blossoms.

See how wet the leaves and petals are? Don’t let the dabbles of sunlight on them fool you. It’s not as warm as it looks.

The lilacs are starting to bloom too. I could cover my face with their blossoms and inhale their sweet fragrance all day long. It would take my mind off the reality that our fate is up to judges who think highly of an English judge from the 1600s who executed witches and argued for chopping the heads off of 14 year olds. It makes me wonder what the war of independence was for if we’re bound to beliefs and superstitions of English judges from so long ago.

In the woods the skunk cabbage grow vigorously. I admire these robust plants which can produce such huge leaves out of the air they breathe and the minerals they quaff from the ground.

And in the garden I find these large, translucent earthworms. It’s remarkable how such soft, fragile tubes slither through the soil. There are some 22,000 species of these creatures. Annelids is what they are called, from the Latin anellus which means “little ring.” You can make out the thin segments on the earthworm in the picture. If you want to take your mind off the absurdity that our highest judges have their minds muddled by Medieval thought, count the rings on this earthworm. This earthworm is large, but it is nothing compared to the meter long Giant Gippsland earthworm of Australia.

Warmth arrives and with it the bees. The Rainier cherry trees are in full bloom. This year warmth arrived in time for the bees to be buzzing when the Rainiers are in bloom.

Some of the apples are starting to bloom too.

As are some of the rosemary bushes.

The trilliums are opening their delicate flowers too. I’m very lucky to be able to step out of the house and stroll into the woods to see trillium blossoms dabbled with sun light. How many get to do that?

And a sure sign that warmth has arrived are the first potato shoots poking out of the ground. If potatoes are sprouting, some things in this world are going right.

The calendar says it is April 20, but the snow falling in the foothills makes me wonder what month it is?

Blooming mustard says it is May, but we saw a flock of snow geese yesterday so it can’t be that late. And then this morning, thick frost painted the grass.

And here I thought we were way past the last frosty morn. Even the tips of the tulips had tiny ice droplets on them.

So what month is it? Though I’ve seen tulips with heavy hats of snow on them. A fairy dusting of frost soon melts away.

Pink weeping cherry blossoms tell me that it is April, so the calendar isn’t misleading me when it says April is in its last third. These weeping cherry trees don’t weep in Japan. They are called “Drooping branch cherries” 枝垂れ桜 – 枝 branch 垂れ drooping 桜 cherry.

And the billowing white clouds I saw yesterday say that May is just around the corner.

Even in death a single cherry blossom is remarkably beautiful. Half or more of the cherry blossoms have fallen from the tree. The wind whipped them into a blizzard the other day, scattering them far. Underneath the tree, they form a river of white.

They are as lovely off the tree as they are on the tree. There is no wind today. No clouds. No rain. There will be no blizzard of cherry blossoms on this quiet, cloudless, morning. A perfect day to hold a funeral for this year’s blossoms. Short, short lives to celebrate.

Frost tinges the grass this morning. A very late frost. No more bumblebees tickling their anthers or humming bird tongues licking their nectar. Cherry blossoms live but a week or two but impart wonderful memories that last a lifetime. When they are long gone, all I have to do is close my eyes and see them floating like clouds against a blue sky.

Now it’s the white plum blossoms that are opening. Followed by the pears, the fruiting cherry trees, and the apples. So the bumblebees and humming birds won’t go hungry. Not this year.

The cherry blossoms are in full bloom. They started opening a week ago, slowly at first. But on the first warm day, March 24, they all popped open at once. Warm? Not really. Warmer is more like it. Has it really been warm yet this year? That’s debatable. The bees certainly don’t think it has. They are still fast asleep in their dens and wintering hives.

Bees buzzing about is a sure sign that it is actually warm. This year the cherry blossoms will bloom without swarms of bees buzzing about. And the forecast is for clouds and rain through April 6. Some sun is forecast to appear on the 7th. But still no warmth to speak of.

So the cherry blossoms will probably have floated away before it warms up enough for the bees to buzz about.

Wet, cool Marches and early Aprils seems to be a trend. It’s been a number of years since we’ve had warm, dry weather when the cherry blossoms bloom, and swarms of buzzing bees so loud that you can hear them long before you reach the cherry tree.

Down in the valley, fields of daffodils cover the valley with brilliant yellow carpets. They stretch for as long as the eye can see. The swans are still about, though not for long. What do they think of these daffodil fields when they go flying overhead? Do they cock they heads to look at them? A week or two and they will be gone. It doesn’t give me much time to ask them.