We're making progress, but it's two steps forward, one back.

Our friend Nancy, who lives in our village, rapped lightly on our apartment door yesterday around noon.  

"Have you been over to the Vine's lately? Have you seen the weeping flowering cherry tree in the garden?  It's gorgeous," she said, as I opened up and greeted her. "You might want to take your camera."  

Well, I hadn't accomplished either of the things she inquired about, and I believed her description of the tree would be accurate.  I vowed to correct my oversight immediately. It was the work of moments to prepare. While I took out my camera, Jeanne, who was listening to our exchange from the sofa, found her shoes, and we hustled toward the Sky Bridge passage to the Vines. 

We spent the next 15 minutes or so admiring the object of our search. I think that it's a Prunus subhirtella Pendula. It was definitely in full bloom and well worth the walk.

I took several shots and now present the one I like the best here, to you.  

A couple of weeks ago, I published a post about our 'first day' of spring.  This post is sort of a follow up to it, as today's title implies.  Nancy's visit to us assured that you have seen a very obvious example that spring is indeed upon us, although I'm an impatient sort when it comes to weather and wish it would warm up and dry out now, right now.    

As I snapped, my camera that is, I was my usual friendly self to Jeanne and those folks we met during our walk, I discovered that our village bees were also out and about.  The object of their attention at that moment was not the cherry tree however.  Here are several of the macro shots I took of them.  

Definitely a sign of spring, wouldn't you agree? 

Notice the bee's left hind leg. It has its honey basket, or corbicula, only partially filled.  

Another sign of seasonal progress I saw a few days ago was a giant oak in Tui Glen.  I was hoping to get a shot of it with just a green blush in its branches, but I didn't time it correctly.  

I also saw this more upright species of cherry tree that grows in a long row with others in the carpark at West Wave, our local swimming center. 

Let's look at a few more signs of progress around our village. 

Orchids are coming on strong, but look at that line of clouds rolling in.  Here comes another squall.

And look at this lavender, they'll soon be blowing and dripping.  The squalls we get are brief, but the unleash a lot of water.  And since 'brisk' winds accompany them, the rain usually arrives somewhat sideways.  

Jeanne's personal garden is doing nicely. Those are very young cabbages. (Two are purple.)

I'll end my post with a look at the condition of the swallow nest that has been in use for the past couple of years. It at least, is perfectly protected from the weather.  

I was hoping as I made my way down to the potting shed just now, that the birds would use it again this year.  It appears from what I saw that they intend to. 

This first picture is an action shot I took last year, in December of 2022.  I'd like you to notice especially, the height of the nest, after you're done admiring my skill at catching the parent 'just so,' that is.  

For reference, there is a ring of darker material that runs across the nest about halfway up. 

Now, look at this next picture. It's the same nest, which I photographed today, October 10, 2023.  Notice where the dark line is on this current structure, and notice what looks like new construction at the top.  If it gets much higher, I think the babies, after they hatch and as they grow, might find themselves with restricted head room. I think the batch this year will be alright though.  

I'll be down here, as I have in the past two years, to record the antics of the young ones.  

I'm more used to thinking of the first robin of the year as the harbinger of spring, back in Michigan, but these swallow's nest building activities will do nicely since I'm here. (They stay here year-round.)

My friend Lee, in the Copper Country of Michigan, has been telling me lately about his adventures with fall fishing, and his plans for hunting ruffed grouse. I'm reminded of my years of hearing the geese calling as they flew overhead on their way south for the year and my preparations for the November white-tail deer hunt.  Good time certainly, but the memories come with a just a twinge of heartache.   

But, I find that I'm looking forward to our upcoming summer with great anticipation. This new life of ours in the Southern Hemisphere continues to be wondrous in so many respects. I look forward to continuing to share it with you all.     -djf