The California poppies are out. For a brief few weeks the hills are green. And orange. And blue, from the sprinklings of some kind of blue wildflower.
Years ago I was sitting at SFO waiting for a friend to arrive from Europe, and next to me sat two English women doing the same. One of them said she was glad her mother came to visit while the hills were green, because the yellow and brown of all other seasons is so sad.
I don’t think the yellow and brown of the burnt grass is sad at all, I think it’s pretty in a whole other way. But the green hills, the blue skies, and the flowers. That’s the beauty of April.
