Spring. Is there a more glorious time of year? The other seasons all have their upsides. Summer: the heat and sunshine, the lazy river and the ocean, barefoot days and a cold Mexican beer just when you need one. Autumn: the golden glow of the vineyards as their leaves turn, the quality of light as the Earth begins its tilt away from the sun, cool nights, crisp and fogless days. Winter: rain…finally, fires in the fireplace, bare trees, short days and frosty mornings. But spring…oh dear, sweet spring! Rebirth and renewal, the Earth begins to warm, trees bud out, hillsides painted with broad brush strokes of green, baseball! Spring is about hope, a fresh start, a clean slate. On the perfect spring day life’s possibilities seem unlimited. There’s nothing that I feel I can’t accomplish, I’m limited only by my imagination.  I look out upon this spring day from my  backyard and see a shifting psychedelic mosaic playing out before me.

The birds are changing shifts. The tiny yellow-rumped warbler that I’ve watched flit around our feeder all winter has been replaced by the rufous hummingbird. This diminutive bird is a temporary visitor as it passes through our area on the way to its summer home in Washington and British Colombia. I see it for perhaps a week at most. The ephemeral nature of this bird’s presence in our backyard makes me appreciate it all the more. The same goes for the western tanager. Unlike the rufous hummingbird, we get to see the tanager all spring and summer. The male’s bright yellow and red coloring appears as a flash of brilliance among the green of our fruit trees. My favorite spring visitor is the hooded oriole. It arrives like clockwork every year between the end of March and the beginning of April. Its electric yellow-orange feathers are hard to miss. This bird nests atop our neighbor’s fan palm tree. Spring really hasn’t begun for me until my initial spotting. This year the oriole showed up on April 10…right on time!

We had a record breaking rain year here in California. All things green are rejoicing from this wonderfully wet winter. The trees have been cleansed of months of dust and grime and literally pulsate in the sunshine. The hillsides all around us are greener than I’ve seen them in many years. The wildflower bloom has begun and promises to be one for the ages. I can feel the Earth’s gratitude after so many so many months of nourishing rain. Our grapefruit tree is heavy with golden orbs of fruit, each one a miniature sun. The word yellow was surely invented to describe the teardrop shaped fruit that hangs from our Meyer lemon tree. The snowy blossoms of our Asian pear  and cherry trees happily gather the sun into their hearts. Bright pink apple blossoms burst forth into even more snowdrifts. There is yet more sunshine in the brilliant yellow flowers of our African daisy bush. We planted this many years ago from a one gallon container. It’s now nearly six feet high and as many feet around. Our winter carrot crop is in and they’re crunchy and bursting with flavor.

Our neighbor’s Japanese maple tree has leafed out in all its glory. The subtle hue of its thousands of light green seven-pointed leaves dance before me in the late afternoon breeze. Twenty foot high columns of pink jasmine snake upwards and engulf two 30 foot tall cypress trees. Thousands of delicate blossoms are poised to fill the air with their sweet, heady aroma.

The air surrounding me is alive with the breeze and the song of the wind chimes and the blip-blop from the trio of fountains on our deck. At one time or another nearly every bird that calls our yard home pauses to bathe or drink here. We’re beginning to prepare the ground for our various vegetable gardens. Is there a more life affirming smell than that of freshly turned soil? Soon the seeds and starts will be sown, tiny green shoots reach skyward. We carefully nurture this new growth, to be rewarded in summer and fall by a bounty of fresh organic veggies.

Nearly seven years ago we planted a foot high redwood sapling behind a shed in the corner of our yard. The sapling is now a twelve foot tree and from my vantage point on our deck is visible above the peak of the shed. Growth, renewal, beauty…spring!