The first blossom to come out is cherry. We usually have it in our garden on Norway’s national day, the seventeenth of May.
Afterwards we have plum and pear blossom, and now all the apple trees are out. This one below is a Bramley cooking apple (there’s a small beetle on it).
And this is a smallish Japanese crabapple next to the house:
They all have quite different blossom, really. There’s more to come; lilac and philadelphus, both of which are strongly scented, should be in bloom soon.
Here are some other things that are out. Cowslips and forget-me-nots,
more forget-me-nots and dandilions
Topsy got stuck. She got her lead tangled in the long grass down by the compost heap. It wasn’t a disaster.
This tree stump was once an apple tree. We sawed through a rotten section,
which was being converted into a desirable residence by a group of ants. It’s been going on for years. They do the work by eating their way through the tree-stump and so far they’re about a quarter of the way around. It’s more open to the rain than they originally intended and much lighter, but they don’t seem to mind. There’s a nice stalagmite effect, it looks like Arizona from the air; it must be quite dramatic at night if you’re the size of an ant.
I loved the small insect balancing on the apple flower. And Topsy’s nimbus of twig.
Our apple blossom has been and gone already, southerners that we (by your standards) are.
Topsy looks like a little lamb lost in the woods. And so
Beautiful blossoms! Your pictures are wonderful and I love your comments about ants, it’s a wise politic: they’re happy in that tree stump and you don’t have to kill them.
I always feel bad if I had to kill any insect. Well, except mosquitoes.
True, I’m like any other genocidal tyrant…
dearieme, thanks for this lovely version of “Someone to look over me”. It was great to hear it to begin my day (it’s 6 o’clock here)
sorry, I know, I know: “…watch over me”!
As far as I know, no one’s crazy about mosquitos. We don’t think of you as a genocidal tyrant, Julia.
Blossom Dearie, how appropriate.
The twig nimbus should be covered in small roses later on this month.
Everything is later here until midsummer. After that, everything (autumn, darkness, snow etc.) is earlier.
Forgive my enthusiasm, AJP, but this is all so beautiful to me, as in a dream (even, or perhaps especially, the ants at their labours)… though I’m sure to Topsy (and of course the ants) it is simply a day in the life.
I’ll try and forgive your enthusiasm. But you guys in Berkeley don’t have it so bad, either.
Crown,
Now I am thinking of your other story of kindness to ants. If I remember, when your father-in-law built a cabin he did so in such a way as to spare a huge ant colony?
Yes, what a memory! I think it was less that it’s particularly large, more that it had been there much longer than he had. He was kind to ants. I’m fonder of beetles — and snails and spiders (not that they’re insects).
Fondness for beetles puts you in good company.
Of course, because All You Need is (Beatle) Love!
Where’s that post about your father-in-law’s cabin? I want to read it, please.
Julia, the allusion was, I’ll bet, to Haldane’s assertion that God has an inordinate fondness for beetles.
Thank you, dearieme!
Although it doesn’t really matter, misreading is always a useful tool for interpretation, isn’t it? Especially if we don’t want to find The Truth but some meaning… :-)
Julia,
The anthill story was not here, but in this comment thread at my humble and long-neglected blog.
Thank you, it was really funny to read all your conversation!
And you talked about mosquitoes too…
I’m glad you figured that out, Ø. I would have been searching for it all night.
JBS Haldane: An inordinate fondness for beetles.
Happy birthday, AJP.