In Bloom

I keep for­get­ting to men­tion (to the noos­phere in gen­eral) the “bloom”: here in the palm-and-desert aerie, we have the bless­ing of an early bloom.

This is always a beau­ti­ful shock to my inner-climate-sense, since I grew up in {was forged in the Iro­quois fires of} Upstate New York {and also sub­se­quently in the Mohi­can Val­ley of Waste­field, MA} where Feb­ru­ary is still bit­terly cold, and March is, more often than not, a slug­gish and grimy old Lion. Mean­ing: my inner senses do not ever expect to see soft green buds, light pur­ple umbrella-flowers, explo­sions of flower-cones, or rounded peaks of bell-like petals dot­ting the land­scape. But here they are, in this beau­ti­ful hybrid world of South­ern California.

Walk­ing through our favorite desert-in-miniature a few days ago, we were impressed to see the Yucca bell-towers, the Night­shade, the African Vio­lets, and the feral spike-balls of the Wild Cucum­ber. And, while not exactly a flower (though bear­ing a small tuft of flow­ers at the end of a stalk), the black sage has run ram­pant, weav­ing ten­drils of its par­tic­u­lar dry desert spice through the warm air.

I can’t help but wax a lit­tle poetic — it puts me in such a reverie, even while remem­ber­ing it.

More to write, more to remem­ber– but the day has started, so here we go.

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