Wake to heavy snow in the morning. The Nectarine Tree is covered with melting snow, its opening buds peeking out like tiny pink lights.

If the air doesn't freeze with a hard snap, all this good moisture makes the humans happy. But not just us. The fruit trees in town also look happy and full of life; ready to flower with a tree's promise to produce an abundant crop this time around. Surely, no doubt the trees are eager to make up for last year when a late hard freeze crippled the prospects for banner production of local tree fruit. But now again, the buds are coming. The Mojo is back, seen taking the form of flowers already opening. Is it too early? We always wonder as the days are not quite warm enough and the nights are still down right shivering. But what is right in a land where nectarine trees would not normally grow? Hope to have, perhaps the lucky dynamic of a close southern wall of light and mid-day warmth -- just enough of a heat collecting microclimate to keep the buds safe from some short lived, lingering bud killer. But is that warm wall confusing the tree into budding too early? Is the microclimate a good match? Perhaps the March snow convinces the buds to slow down somewhat. Once the cold has passed, and if events unfold well without damage, the tree can produce enough for summer, canning in the fall, leaving tales to tell of a banner year. If there's room and the conditions are right, fruit trees are definitely worth a try. Certainly, in this place, there are chances of failure as the transition from winter to spring is erratic, always exciting, unpredictable, challenging.