By Louie Ferrera

Carol and I left for the Sierras on a rainy Wednesday before dawn, returning home after three days of snow and bitter cold to brilliant sunshine and a warm breeze that said, “Spring is here!” with every jingle of our wind chimes. To finally get a clear, dry day after such a gloriously wet winter, I could see how the angle of the sun had shifted and noticed the difference in the quality of light. Our planet was tilting closer and closer to the sun, a little every day. Our backyard had undergone a magical transformation, seemingly overnight.

Tiny green leaves had begun to appear on the ends of the bare branches of our plum and apple trees. The cherry trees were bursting with popcorn-like flowers. Uncountable numbers of buds were making their initial appearances on the oak tree that will soon shade our front yard. The grass suddenly needed to be cut. Wasps were beginning to construct their nests. Eventually I’ll go out under cover of night and destroy them but for now I just chalk up their renewed activity as an inevitable part of spring. Pink jasmine vines climb 25 feet into the air, reaching nearly to the tops of and covering two cypress trees. Thousands of blossoms are about to burst forth in a dazzling display of fragrance and springtime exuberance. 

And the flowers! Freesias; white, yellow, red and even a few blue ones, were blooming everywhere. Of all the springtime flowers, this one is my absolute favorite. Their heady fragrance is evocative and fleeting and an essential marker of spring. The smell of freesias always brings me back to that girl with the curly red hair and blue eyes who came to the door when I picked her up for our one and only date with a sprig of yellow freesias tucked into her hair. I don’t remember her name or where we went on that date but I always think of her when the freesias are in bloom.

Last spring I poached an African daisy plant from a yard in our neighborhood and planted it. It flourished but produced no flowers. This year is a different story. This ground hugging plant now covers six square feet and is bursting with mulit-petaled flowers; white with purple centers. Patience pays off as nature does what it will do all in its own time. Yellow daffodils, purple and white hyacinth, multi-colored tulips, purple and yellow primrose, and pale blue forget-me-nots all add their brilliant colors to the springtime palette. Lavender and white irises are next up to bloom, hints of their blossoms are already beginning to emerge. If Diego Rivera were alive today, he’d be in my backyard painting the huge clusters of milky white calla lilies that grow beneath our kitchen window.

Throughout my tenure as an elementary school teacher, I received many sweet end-of-the-school-year gifts, from “I❤️ My Teacher” coffee mugs to bottles of wine and everything in between. Two of my most cherished gifts bloom every year in our backyard. One is a now six-foot high hydrangea bush that produces softball size purple and white flowers. The other is a lily that blooms in late spring with large bell-shaped, salmon colored flowers. Talk about gifts that keep on giving!

Somewhere along the Pacific Flyway the Hooded Oriole, Western Tanager, Rufous Hummingbird and various tiny yellow warblers are slowly making their way to our neighborhood. I listen for their calls and anticipate the brilliant flashes of color and song they will bring to the surroundings. Of all the signs of spring, the birds are my favorite. The oriole nests atop my next door neighbor’s towering fan palm tree. Spring truly arrives for me when I first see it perched up there shining in the morning sun.

Of course many of the springtime metaphors of rebirth and renewal manifest themselves in the beginning of baseball season. As I write this, major leaguers are tuning up in the Arizona and Florida sunshine, with the start of the regular season just days ahead. You can rest assured that I’ll be in the stands at Oracle Park cheering on my beloved San Francisco Giants. Welcome spring indeed!