Two delightful spring days in the valley
The last couple of days the valley took on an Italian look with red, white, and green. Earlier, I had been listening to Divertimento nº3 in D major 'Noces paysannes' or 'Peasant Wedding' by Leopold Mozart (1719-1787) that wicked father from the movie 'Amadeus', who was alleged to have dragged his weakling son all over Europe in the relentless pursuit of profit and aggrandizement for himself. It wasn't quite like that, of course: it's never that simple. Papa Mozart was himself a dab hand at playing the violin, teaching, and composition—several of his pieces have been wrongly accredited to his genius offspring. The divertimento is unusual; few pieces in the orchestral repertoire contain parts for bagpipes and this piece is as merry and tuneful as its title suggests. Leopold was German, so of course the piece is also translated as 'Die Bauernhochzeit', which sounds much less like fun.
Over the two days the sky was filled with some wonderfully wrought clouds and lighting. Blossom, flowers, sunshine, and animals were to be seen in abundance—even the occasional aircraft. The pictures from both days have been shuffled into a single set to make a visual divertimento for your enjoyment. They are not in anything approaching the date-order beloved of left-brained spreadsheet devotees, for which there is doubtless a harsh German word with Teutonic disapproval writ large in its meaning.
Both these horses enjoy a petting, but the gates were closed against the second one, so it was blowing and whinnying.
The first cat did a bunk when I raised my camera, but the second one maintained its territorial rights.
The orchards are progressing at a good pace.
A neighbor assured me that the next tree was always the first in the valley to blossom—a claim that I do not dispute—and that it was an almond tree. The owner, who performed our wedding ceremony, says it is a King 'cot. The Himalayan valley of Hunza in the Gilgit–Baltistan region of Pakistan is known as "the land where the apricot is king", but rather more prosaically, I think this one comes from the Santa Clara Valley, south of San Jose, California, where the Gonzales family has grown Royal Blenheim apricots on their farm near Hollister since the end of WWII. I told you already: nothing is ever simple.
My botanical consultant says the next picture shows lilac.
A nice group of tulips to remember Jack Sullivan.
At this time of tear the sun now sets precisely on the top of Sullivan's Knoll, as seen from my favorite viewpoint.
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