I am a primatologist who spends twelve hours most days in the company of a thirteen year old chimpanzee named Bow. I am also an editor with Inverted-A Press.
Today it was dark and gloomy in the pens, because it rained almost all day long, but the monotony of the droning patter of falling rain was broken by the look and feel and color and flavor of unusual fruit.
Bow slept almost all morning, because what else can you do when the world is so dark and wet outside?
It was quite warm out when I went for my walk in the afternoon, but the petals of the latest blossoms on the cherry tree had been stained pink by the bruising they received in the rain,
By the path in the pasture, there were two persimmons so ripe that they had fallen to ground by one of the taller trees.
The smallest and most bountiful persimmon tree had more of its fruit ripe for the picking.
Dripping with rain, the persimmons looked very appetizing.
I picked the ripe ones and brought them home to Bow, so soft to the touch they were almost falling apart.
Bow ate the pulp and gently spit out the seeds into my hand. There were a lot of seeds!
For dessert with dinner tonight, I served Bow one of the four kiwifruit that his friend who brings the bananas gave him last week. They were not ripe then, but they are starting to ripen now.
Bow had never had kiwifruit before, so when he requested it, he called it "something else."
The kiwifruit was so good, Bow almost forgot to use the spoon I provided, but he was very polite and handed me the empty plate and spoon when he was done.
It can be very dark in the pens when the sun is not shining, but life is never dull when there is new and interesting fruit to eat.
It has gotten cold lately. Shivery, goose-bumpy cold requiring, if not heating yet, at least blankets and warm jackets. But the more intrepid among us continue with business as usual. Bow, for one, is still going outside and staying out for long periods without complaint.
My new tenants moved into Orchard House last night. Their presence there will relieve me of the burden of having to heat the other house during the cold winter months. But I was surprised to see a pink rose still blooming on the front yard at Orchard House the day before, despite the bitter cold.
Of course, inside the blossom there was also an insect taking advantage. Where there are flowers, there also are bugs.
In my pasture yesterday, I spotted a ladybug inside a thistle bloom. But the ladybug was green, as if with envy. Or maybe it was green from the cold, instead of being blue.
There was also a very busy bumblebee, seemingly covered with pollen, plying its trade despite the changing weather.
After all, if there are still flowers, why shouldn't the insects keep up with their usual business?
But surely all the flowers will fade soon, like these older thistle blooms that have gone to seed, and then what will the insects do?
Except that it's not really all that simple. Today, walking in the cold, cutting wind, wearing a jacket, I spotted brand new blossoms on a bare service berry tree.
Why would the tree choose to blossom at just such a time as this?
Isn't it a terrible waste of resources? Surely, there is not time enough before the first big freeze to grow any berries! I figured this must be an isolated fluke, until I saw the blossoms on the bare limbs of the first cherry tree in my orchard.
Just like the service berry, the first cherry tree has decided to bloom.
The branches are bare, the sky is grey, there is no sunlight or warmth, but still there are blossoms. And the first cherry tree is not alone in its error. The second cherry tree has sprouted a single open pink-centered blossom.
What is the world coming to?
Will we be picking cherries in November?
Even the lawn is sprouting new flowers that were not there a few days ago. And the honeysuckle seems ready with new buds just as the mature flowers are fading.
Everywhere I look, there are new flowers blooming, despite all the dying leaves.
With so much confusion about whether it is autumn or spring, it is not wonder that all the insects are still so active.
As I was taking my walk this afternoon, this spider was walking down the path, right ahead of me.
Sometimes nature gives us such mixed signals, assuring us of the hope of spring, when winter is right around the corner. Do not be deceived!
Yesterday, it was cold and wet, as we had had rain and a little hail the night before. Nevertheless, Bow was happy to go outside and enjoy the slightly cooler but still fine spring weather.
Everything was in bud or was blossoming, and many of the flowers still dripped with the recent rain.
The forsythia was in full bloom.
And the cherry trees were budding.
But this morning there are snow flurries.
While the snow is not sticking to the ground, you can see it accumulating a little on the trunks and limbs of the oak trees.
See that white stuff hanging on the the lichens? That is snow.
There is a small accumulation of snow on some of the limbs of the oak and of the pine trees.
I hope that this unexpected snowfall does not prevent us from having cherries and peaches and pears this year. It's been a few years since we last had peaches like this:
The trees used to be loaded with peaches, more than we could possibly eat.
Both Sword and Bow enjoyed the peaches. They were juicy and picked only once they had ripened.
But for the past few years, whether due to a late frost or for some other reason, we have not had peaches.
Let's hope this year will be different and that the snow flurries we are experiencing will not affect our future fruit yield.
Everyone can see how much more mature an adolescent appears.
But how did the transformation come about? What were all the awkward little stages? If you read all my blog posts and articles about Bow and look at all the pictures, you can see it happen gradually. But usually when a child grows, we do not notice.
The same applies to flowers and fruit. Everybody notices the pretty cherry blossoms.
And who could fail to note when the cherries are ripe?
But how did they get that way? Lately I have been noticing some of the intermediate awkward moments, like a green cherry emerging from a pink flower cap.
The flowers on the cherry trees in my yard start out as white. But as they age, they become pink. Then the green fruit emerges, capped with a pink tuft.
Only later does the pink tuft disappear, and you see bunches of the green fruit, waiting to ripen.
Other awkward transformations are taking place all around me. For instance, the redbud blossoms have sprouted little miniature swords.
Those tiny, dagger-like protrusions will eventually become the well known seed pods. And guess what the dogwood is up to? Its blossoms -- the real ones -- have opened.
Remember that I mentioned the dogwood is a drupe? This means the four white petals are nothing but bracts, and the real action happens inside those little globe-like green things in the center. Those are the real flowers, and their tiny stamens and pistils are now open for business.
It has taken me a long time to notice some of these things. It has been twelve years since Bow was a baby and that's how long it took for me to get to the point of noticing when the little true blossoms inside the big false blossoms really open!
Yesterday I encountered another rabbit.
It was a pretty fast runner, so I was not able to observe any subtle details. It might take me another twelve years before I notice anything truly significant about rabbits. By then, Bow will be twenty-four.
For the past couple of days, it has been unusually cold again. Even on the day when Bow was giddily hanging off the rafters, later that afternoon it rained and rained, and the next time Bow went outside that day, it was suddenly much, much colder.
Bow looked out at the pen. It was much less inviting than it had been a few hours earlier. But he went out anyway, because he likes to be outdoors.
Leo is always willing to play some more, but I think you can tell by looking at the picture closely that Bow was feeling cold. This, however, did not keep him from expressing his thoughts.
Meanwhile, I was looking at the plants. First of all, there were tiny shoots in Bow's planter, despite the fact that he had toppled it over twice since planting.
Tiny shoots in Bow's planter on the afternoon of April 13
The cherry tree was now in full bloom.
Bees buzzed by the tree, even as the weather threatened to be stormy.
The pear tree, which up until recentlyhad been completely bare, now was covered with leaves.
And the tulip tree was sprouting leaflets right next to the old, dead flowers from last year.
The next day, April 14, things got even colder and I eventually had to start heating the inner pen again. I was concerned that it might freeze, so I brought Bow's planter with its tiny shoots inside.
The tiny shoots on April 14
The tiny shoots were a little bigger, almost imperceptibly so. I was worried about the fruit trees, because I could not bring them in. In other parts of the state, it even snowed last night. Luckily, not here so far.
This morning, Bow asked to go out repeatedly all morning, but I told him it was too cold. Finally, around eleven I gave in and agreed.
I took the planter with its tiny shoots and put it out to bask in the sun. Bow enjoyed sunning himself, too. But it was still very cold out. Soon Bow asked to come back inside. The tiny shoots in the planter, however, said nothing. So they stayed put.
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