I’m not a farmer’s daughter for nothing, even if said farmer didn’t technically become one until after I’d moved out of the house. My dad grew almonds for about ten years, and they’re still one of my favorite crops. And yes, Dad did grow for that famous packing company. We always liked those ads.

Blossom season is coming a little late this year, due to our weird weather. Usually they’re blooming like crazy by the last week of February, but this year, they’re just starting to. It’s my sign of Spring, even if it did snow up in the hills last night.

The different varieties bloom at different times. I think I remember that Dad had Carmels, Nonpariels, and Mission almonds in his orchard (correct me if I’m wrong, Mom.) They harvest at different times too, and some have harder shells and some are softer. The Missions are a real pain in the ass to shell by hand–they tear your thumbs up something fierce.

As I drive through the orchards this week, it’s clear that these farmers have different varieties planted in their rows too, as you get a checkerboard pattern with one variety in one row and another that hasn’t bloomed yet in the next.

So, maybe it’s a little cold out, but the bees are happy, and as long as it’s not frosty enough to freeze the buds, the farmers are too. Which is fine with me. Next up are the peaches.