I like spring - it is my favourite season, when everything suddenly turns green, the flowers explode on the tree branches and the birds start chirping outside.
Spring is nature's season; everything wakes up from hibernation and starts a new year. There have been a few showers these days and we're expecting sunshine next week, with a few plans of going out to the park, doggie and all.
|One of grandmother's guard dogs. The petals are from a big pear tree in the garden.|
A few years ago, actually, many years ago, an old man from our village told me this saying "Who hasn't planted a tree in his life can't call himself a man". Of course, in Romanian it sounds nicer and it rhymes: "Cine n-a plantat un pom nu este pe lume om".
So, dad and I decided that we should both plant a few trees in grandmother's yard. We bought a few young trees from the market and armed ourselves with spades.
Dad planted a couple of apple trees and a quince tree, but only one apple tree survived (we've always had huge piles of construction wood in the yard; my grandfather used to make barrels for a living). I planted an apricot tree and a linden tree.
When I was a very little girl, my grandparents had a huge old apricot tree in front of the house. It made sweet little apricots which I loved, but had to be cut down because it could have fallen on the house.
My linden tree was incredibly tiny and crooked. Grandmother always laughed at it, but I did find it propped up with a stick on a later visit. She tried to water it and make it grow tall and straight, but it died quickly.
My apricot tree thrived and grew this way and that. It eventually started making a lot of apricots, but these were the big kind and were often attacked by parasites. Still, I'm very happy to say I planted my own tree.
|My apricot tree in the back garden. To the left, the goat/sheep shed, to the right, some scallions.|
And I do hope to have the occasion to plant more trees.