Last night, the frost stayed away on this spring-two-weeks-too soon. The apricots are waiting for bees that are too cold to fly.

Thanks, everyone, for your prayers. Tonight, though, is April 1, and that’s when the bad frosts always come. This young tree hiding on the mountain, knows about that. The tree in my garden is open to that sky. There’s nothing between her and the stars but the air. She’s very delicate. It’s cold out here.

Please pray. And what is she, daughter of the Gobi Desert, China, Azerbaijan and Persia, thinking? This, I think, as the stars fall.

Blessèd be.