There is a reason pre-Christians placed their holidays when they did! Two days ago I was giving shade to Imbolc and claiming it was still firmly winter, then this morning the air changed. There is still a wind and it is still strong, but the air is soft the way it is when the wind blows at the shore, and on and off it carried rain that is more like sea spray than actual rain. It seems that everything that’s alive has buds, even if they are only tiny. The bees are back, and Merlin the amazing bird app assures me that I heard all kind of birds that I don’t usually hear like the Goldcrest, European Greenfich, the adorable Common Chiffchaff, and many more Zitting Cisticola (which my almanac tells me I heard at the end of January as well).
There are two Great Tits serenading each other, one in the orchard and one in the oak trees, or one in the Lindens and the other in the orchard. They nest in cavities, so when they do mate and lay eggs we are unlikely to know, unlike the American robins that nested in every drain pipe crook back in New Jersey. The European robins (no relation to the misnamed American birds) have been filling the air here with their voices, especially in the morning. I love their song above most others. That reedy trill gets me every time. When I was living in London last year there was a robin who sang beautifully all night, forcing me to choose between freezing with my window open so I could listen or missing truly wonderful concerts. I piled on extra blankets. Apparently they sing at night because it is never fully dark in the city, although they did used to sleep in the day which rather gives that theory the lie. Here, even the street lights go out at night, so the robin sings over breakfast as she should.
In addition to the birds, suddenly the flowers appeared. We have had snowdrops for weeks, but as I walked to the car I almost crushed a patch of violets. There is another on the path toward the orchard, smelling as strongly as any violet essence especially when touched. Toulouse is famous for violets and the airport has a whole store for violet themed items from soap to sugared violets to float in champagne (which we eat as candy). They are a sign of spring approaching, but then as I stood on Andrée’s terrace I saw the real sign. The almond blossom is starting. It seems to me that is early. I remember it peaking in the third week of March, putting it at least a month early. After they retired to France, but while Andrée and Peter were still wintering with us in North Plainfield, she always itched to get back to Mouzieys in time for the almond blossom. And the first time I saw it I could see why! The flowers really do perch on the branches so that seen from afar they seem to dance. That spring Andrée called me to the window every day to marvel at them.
There are catkins (are they flowers?) as well as dandelions and daisies, and a lot of the ground cover weeds are also bursting into flower. And the viburnum in front of the house is stunning. The days are getting longer, the birds are singing love songs, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Seems like spring to me.
