There is a beautiful Indian Plum growing outside my front door. I didn't know what it was when I moved in as it was not in leaf. Every morning (when I let the dog out) I have had the opportunity to watch it slowly come to life as the light levels change. This breaking dormancy does not tread a measured course. No, it surges and waits, plateaus and skips along. Now the buds swell and unfurl, but then a hiatus. Nothing seems to happen until a shift, something invisible I can not see, cajoles the blooms to unravel themselves and hang in pendents off the grey limbs. Leaves follow, slow to show, until in a hurry they unfurl their green sails in swept back surprise, perhaps shocked to see new people have moved in while they slept.
