Every time spring arrives, I realize how much I’ve missed it. The beauty of nature feels like a natural antistress, filling me with happiness. This year, spring came early. February wasn’t very cold, and although we knew there might still be chilly days ahead before it could truly be called spring, it was unclear whether the cold would come before or after the trees blossomed.
Soon, the trees were covered in delicate almond and apricot blossoms.
Then suddenly, the cold returned — snow fell, and temperatures dropped to -8°C. It was heartbreaking. Every time I looked at those fragile flowers, I felt sorry for them, unable to believe such weather could strike at that moment.
On March 12, it snowed, followed by three freezing nights. The blossoms weakened, and it seemed certain that we wouldn’t have apricots this year. This happens to us every couple of years — the cold always seems to come just as the apricots bloom, freezing the flowers.
Two weeks passed. But yesterday, I saw my children eating something from the tree — tiny green apricots. At that moment, I realized once again: if something is meant to happen, nothing can stop it.
It looks like we will have apricots this year after all.
