One of my favorite sights in the Central Valley of California is the blooming of almond trees in the early spring when the bare gray limbs disappear under a thick canopy of white blossoms. Almond production has increased at a frantic pace during the past two decades and new orchards sprouted in fields once planted with tomatoes or simply used as cow pastures. My ride to work takes me through country roads lined with dense orchards; this week, the low white skies and the thick white flowers enveloped me in a gauzy cocoon.
And yet, there is one almond orchard I still miss, the victim of another trend in the Valley: rampant urbanization. It was located in Manteca at the junction of SR 120 and Hwy 99, where the elevated off-ramp dips downward and curves South. Apartment buildings, storage units, and strip malls have replaced the huge almond orchard that was nestled within the ramp and extended as far as the eye could see.
On a clear February afternoon many years ago, Rick and I were driving back from San Francisco airport. As we left 120 to head home, my eyes lingered on the exploding blooms to my right, thick cottony pillows framed by deep blue skies. For a moment, I thought I was still on the plane, watching our descent from above the clouds and then through them. A second reentry. A second landing. Terra firma again.
a french life, one perfect moment at a time