Wait! We Haven't Had Winter Yet!

Santa Rosa Plum in Full Bloom

Spring has Sprung. All about the yard. In the front. In the back. The signs are everywhere. This winter has seen some frost. We've seen some cold days. But we've seen very little in the way of rain.

Which makes me a bit nervous when I see signs like the one to your right. It's a pretty sign to be sure. If you dedicate your yard to all things vegetable and fruit gardening -- the yard can look a little gray and gloomy during those cold winter months.

But that all changes with the onset of a new season. Suddenly? That damp, dark and dreary landscape has exploded in a virtual kaleidoscope of colorful flowers and blooms. Not everything has busted out for the 2012 season just yet.

Flavortop, Fantasia and Arctic Jay Necartines

But it's clear that the starter's gun has gone off.

The nectarines and Santa Rosa plum have been the first to emerge from their long slumber. There are green buds and a single white flower on the Flavor Finale Pluot. The grapes (which I've yet to cut back and prepare) are even showing those familiar signs of green.

Guess what the next Back 40 project is?

Although I welcome the end of a dark and dreary winter season -- the onset of spring does bring some concerns. We received little in the way of actual rainfall this year. During normal years? It takes a good set of mud resistant boots to traverse much of the muddy landscape that is the Bird Back 40.

Daffodils Jumping Out of Planter Box

Not this year. Normal tennis shoes will gain access to every corner. This is a first. I've never seen it quite this dry before.

That is a concern -- because if you're going to garden -- water is an essential element. Yes -- you can install the most efficient of drip and sprinkler systems. Yes -- you can take measures to ensure that not a drop of this precious resource is wasted. But -- the bottom line is -- even the most efficient of watering systems puts a strain on a valuable resource we didn't get much of in the way of rain and snowfall this year.

So -- while I welcome spring and the colors that the season brings to our backyard of fruit and vegetables -- I keep a wary eye trained on the sky.

Is that all for this year?

Let's hope not. Spring is here.

No Hangover Here!

Well -- OK -- maybe that's just a tiny fib.

Or -- it could also be construed as a big, fat lie following Super Bowl Sunday.

I find it quite amazing actually -- that a surprising number of people developed "flu like" symptoms at some point after the Super Bowl last night and they didn't quite make it to work today.

That would include a -- ahem -- special wife named Venus.

The name of my flu? It's the "Gilbey's" strain. No -- not quite as serious as the H1N1 variety (also known as the Swine Flu) -- but it can still kick you pretty hard after you've been "exposed" to this particular virus over a long course of time.

Perhaps I wasn't exposed for long enough last night -- or perhaps I've been stricken with a repellant known as "Spring Fever." No -- I know it's not spring quite yet. I know that "Lake Bird" isn't going to dry up in the backyard anytime soon (much to my chagrin).

However -- there are signs -- like this one to the right -- that "spring" is in the air. These daffodils represent "Venus Magic." They are the first daffodils to spring up anywhere that I've seen in North Natomas. And they're springing up in abundance now -- all over the front yard.

So -- while I had this strange desire to remain in bed this morning -- the desire to go outside and photograph these daffodils was even stronger. Spring Fever wins out. The calendar doesn't say it's springtime just yet -- but there's just no ignoring what's coming up like roses in the front yard.

Spring.

As much as I'd like too -- I can't really tell you what varieties of daffodils these are. I should know -- but alas -- I don't. We probably purchased these bulbs in bags of ten several years ago from the Man's Toy Store (Home Depot) or perhaps even Capital Nursery.

That's one of the few *nice* things I can say about the clay muck sludge that doubles as "soil" in North Natomas. Bulbs love it. Any bulb. It doesn't matter if it's a daffodil, tulip or even freesia. The bulbs come up in the spring -- die back in the summer -- split during the fall and winter --and come right back up again in early spring.

In another month or two? The tulips will be doing the same thing. How can I tell? They're already popping out of the ground. And -- if this steady rain keeps up? The more the better.

Although the bright yellow show around the front yard is enough to get your average gardener excited -- that's not the only show starting to emerge. The first bloom of the 2010 Fresh Fruit Season also emerged on Super Bowl Sunday.

Does this rather blurry photo taken by a bad photographer with a two-cent digital camera indicate the first Santa Rosa Plum of the 2010 Fresh Fruit Season? Can't tell quite yet -- but it's another indication that the long, cold, bitter days and nights of winter are nearly at an end.

The signs of early Spring are upon us.

What's Bloomin' at the Bird House?

Ah spring, when a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love....

Or, in my case, heirloom tomatoes.

With all due respects to the great poet that is Alfred Lord Tennyson and my dear wife, that "young man" age went out with the 1963 Dodge Dart (starburst-neon green Dodge Dart I might add), my Foreigner casette tape of "Double Vision" (Hot Blooded, check it and see) and my acid-washed jeans.

Actually, I still have those jeans somewhere. Lord knows they don't fit anymore. Nor would anyone want them to fit.

I guess the point that I'm trying to make here is -- as you grow older -- you begin to appreciate what the spring season really means. There was a time in my life where winter -- and cold weather -- was "all that." Not anymore. I just don't like it when it's 33 and foggy outside. Give me sunshine. Give me warmth. And give me a show of daffodils and tulips blooming in the front yard.

Venus planted these daffodils during the first fall at the new home in North Natomas. And -- true to that lady's green thumb -- they came up again this year. As a matter of fact, every tulip and daffodil bulb she planted at the old home continues to sprout -- and each year those numbers grow as the bulbs grow, and then split into new bulbs.

But the most exciting part of spring -- to me that is -- is to watch the dormant, dead looking fruit trees suddenly spring to life. That happened about three weeks ago for this O'Henry Peach tree in the backyard. This is just the second year for this tree -- and you can barely see the bark on the branches through all of the pink peach blossoms. And the smell is -- well -- heavenly.

This is truly an exciting moment for me. This small tree produced perhaps ten to 12 blossoms last year -- its first in the backyard. And now? It's just covered with blossoms. This is one reason why Venus and I took the extra step of purchasing a hive of bees -- and one of my biggest concerns about the new yard.

Despite the number of blooms on just this one tree -- I haven't seen one single, solitary bee. Now, while it's true that peach trees don't necessarily need bees to pollinate, who are we kidding? Imagine this one tree full of bees. Then, imagine this one tree full of young peaches. It doesn't take much to take that next step. We will get peaches off this tree this year -- but not nearly as much as I was hoping for.

But the O'Henry peach isn't the only tree blooming in the front and backyard this pre-spring season. So is another peach variety called June Pride (Can you guess that perhaps I like peaches?). True to its name, the June Pride is designed to deliver a peach harvest in late June and early July. The O'Henry Peach will deliver its crop in late July and early August.

This means three solid months of peach harvests, which I can't argue with.

Venus and I purchased the June Pride and the O'Henry trees last February from Silverado Nursery. And although we planted before the spring bloom hit, the June Pride failed to deliver a single bloom -- which means it failed to deliver a single peach. As you can probably tell by the photo to your right, I'm hoping that won't be a problem this year. This photo is two weeks old and now the June Pride, much like the O'Henry, is covered with scads of pink blossoms.

But this isn't the only blooming thing taking place in our North Natomas backyard. This one single bloom (it's blurry -- I'm not great with a digital camera -- so sue me)? This belongs to the Lapin Cherry tree -- which the wife and I also purchased -- and planted -- last February. And this represents the very first cherry blossom this tree has produced. It will be the first of many, as I see shades of white about to burst out all over this tree.

Does this mean cherries are in our immediate backyard future? Tough to say. The Lapin is also known as a "self-fruiting Bing," which means it doesn't require another cherry tree to pollinate. It does have one nearby in the form of a Royal Ranier cherry tree (purchased this year), but it doesn't need it.

Still -- blossoms don't necessarily translate into fruit production. It's a good sign, of course, but I sure would feel better if some lonely beehive would discover our backyard.


Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.

A Prayer in Spring
Robert Frost (1915)