Blooming Season

I live in a place where you don’t need the calendar to know the seasons. At least not in retrospect, when you look back.

The cherry blossom quietly and majestically calls in Spring, it seems all at once and out of nowhere. One minute it’s all buds, the next the entire tree is in full bloom. It’s funny, it took me 2 years to realize the cherry blossom blooms alongside the crab apple tree. I guess you miss the full picture when your focus is myopic. 

The white hydragneas, that are off in the far right corner, are next. They’re unassuming, planted out of the way. It’s only as you scan the horizon of the yard that you notice them in your peripheral – what a delightful surprise they are! 

The purple violets bloom around the same time as the white hydragneas – like twins.

Then comes the marvelous purple Irises. Initially one blooms, as if to give a tease of what’s to come from her friends. Then they all start blooming gradually, like a choir building to a crescendo. My first time watching them bloom felt magical. They remind me of the exotic orchids in Costa Rica, the colors are so vivid, the shapes are out of this world – depicting a rising and falling, a coming and going all at once. Sitting with them felt like they were sharing an offering to anyone who stopped to pay attention.

The crowd favorites are next, the peonies. They too start one by one initially, then all at once. I had to learn the best time, and how, to cut them. Apparently, timing is everything when cutting a peony that you intend to bloom off the vine. Their lovely scent makes the house smells magical. After a few weeks they disappear as quietly as they started. Leaving a lush green bush to linger until winter takes all its leaves. 

As the peonies take a bow, the red rose bushes take the stage. Soft, thorny and unwieldy. They’re perched on the corner of the house – they can see all the coming and going like nosy neighbors with deceptively sharp tongues. There isn’t anything quite like seeing a rose bush right after it rains. The droplets of water clinging to the suede-like leaves for dear life. 

As the roses linger on for a few weeks the orange dayily starts blooming right next to the chicken coup. Their vibrant orange flowers are precariously perched atop a tall and lanky stem. It holds its weight throughout the blooming season with such confidence, despite how fragile it appears. They must be a treat for the deers; as soon as they bloom, they’re gone the next day. Only janky bite marks are left where the daylily used to be.

Now that I’m thinking about it, the orange daylily bloom at the same time as the yellow daylily. These spring up right next to where the peonies bloomed. The yellow-eyed grass blooms alongside the lilies. These are the bees’ absolute favorites!

By late summer the pink and purple hydragneas enter the chat, and they are serious bloomers. Their stem and flowers are stout and sturdy.

Then comes the European pears. They’re edible. I’ve tried them. I just learned they don’t ripen on the vine; if left on the vine they ripen from the inside out. Instead you must pick them when they are mature and “cure” them until ripeness. I wonder how many sweet sweet pears have gone to waste for lack of knowing this tiny but significant detail.

Perched by the back door, the white hibiscus makes its debut. Right about when the branches of the pear tree are hanging low and closer to the ground; ladened with fruit. The hibiscus tree offers absolutely no shade but it’s beautiful non-the-less.

Finally, the crab apple tree blesses us with more apples than we can manage. As Jamaicans would say, “apple fi stone dawg.” Everyone in the yard is delighted; the squirrels, the birds, the worms, the raccoons, the ground hog, the fox and her kids and me. When the apples start drying up it signals the turn of the season. 

A turn to cooler weather, to wind drenched evenings in the sunroom, to cozy nights by the fire, to mysterious drafts from every crevice of a 200yr old house, to thanking your lucky stars the hot water pipes just happen to be underneath the floor of the only bathroom in the house. 

The flower and fruit parade is over for now, but there is much peace in knowing the cherry blossom will quietly and majestically signal Spring again. 

I live in a place where you don’t need a calendar to know the seasons. At least not in retrospect, when you look back.

k.h. 2026