WINTER BLOSSOM

From my roof terrace I look over the valley pinked with almond blossom. It has been a warm dry January with crisp mornings but no frost, perfect weather for the nuts to set so we should see a good harvest this August, when the nuts are knocked with canes onto waiting nets, exhausting work in Summer heat. The village once hummed with shelling machines, as nuts were bagged for storage, ground for cakes and pastries. Sadly with an aging population and a younger generation who can not make money from agriculture, almond production is in decline, the supermarkets selling cheaper Californian almonds, exploiting their water table in a sad example of the environmental damage of global food production.
This poem describes the 'almendros' particular cycle, leafless in Summer, blooming in Winter when their blossom delights the senses.

The ‘almendro’ keeps its own cadence,

waxed feather leaves burst emerald green

whilst Winter trees sleep through valley winds,

antler velvet nuts set in oval clusters,

milky cream almonds maturing within as

fall strikes early, Summer sun still baking

cracked Terracotta earth, bare branches crying

Autumn, their spiked silhouettes framed

against shimmer haze of July sapphire sky.

As year end nears, homes ever greened and berried,

we spot the first blossom, a sun blessed spot

warms the waiting buds, peach down petals

unfolding like snow dove wings, the farmers pray

for needed rain to bide its time, for chill to wait as

New Year sunshine balms the grove, overnight the

blossom bursts, the terraced valley flushed with

clouds of candy pink, a floating blush brushed

from a palette of white rose, silked as a ballet shoe.