Day after day this week, on arriving home from work, I rushed to my little almond tree to observe its transformation from a mass of bare brown branches, to swelling buds, and finally, the first, tentative, pink-tinged flowers.
In the drear and sludge of late winter, the first almond blossoms feel like an annual miracle. Soon the peach trees, then the plums, and finally the apples, will blossom, but almond blossoms are the first promise of spring.
This weekend, I’m flying to Sydney to visit family, then next Thursday I fly to Queensland for Problogger, my first blogging conference. Hopefully I’ll learn some tips and tricks to make Rosehips and Rhubarb a bigger and better blog. A highlight, I’m sure, will be meeting other kitchen garden bloggers face-to-face for the first time, including Liz from Strayed from the Table, Kyrstie from A Fresh Legacy and Jo from the Country Life Experiment.
When I return to Adelaide after a week away, my little almond tree will be covered in flowers and buzzing with bees. But in the garden’s headlong rush toward spring, I must not forget the delicate joy of the first almond blossoms.