“There was an almond blossom, yesterday. It had opened its pale petals on a twig of the bough that curls and twists up to my windowsill. This morning, the blossom is gone; the paleness upon the twig is snow. It does one no good, in these hills, to set store by the earth’s steady warming.”
note: Opening words of the novel, The Secret Chord, by Geraldine Brooks , the book I’m now reading.