When new to California, my body out of balance in a land of no snow
or seasons, native Californians assured, We have two seasons here:
rainy fall and dry spring. That worked as expectation until
ocean temperatures rose and the rains stopped.

In the middle of global warming, I see
whatever people say now, February in California
still means cherry trees blooming.
Between St. Valentine’s and George Washington’s birthdays
small trees rain pink petals on lawns, driveways, on people out for a walk.

Apple and cherry trees stand at attention, shower white or pink blossoms.
Petals fill the air when the breeze picks up.

Then green leaves poke through the white, or purple leaves through the pink.
Fruit trees bulge with life, thick with flower and new leaf.
Showy acacia blasts with bouquets of yellow pollen, powdery flower bunches.

And we coastal westerners, who have no thrilling first or second snowfall,
nor could ever be snowed in here, nor turn to shoveling in thermal boots
and heavy coats, look down on our shoes or bare toes or into the sidewalk cracks
and spy pink, white, and yellow, translucent petals ruled by the air, all over us.
I can finally say it, as good as snow.

Photo by zoe pappas from Pexels