The roses at the guesthouse are starting to emerge.
The grape arbor has begun.
And so has springcleaning.
Hosing down the rugs: Housewife with Scarf.
And then there's the peacocks that have shown up next door. Here's the male, not quite strutting.
The cry/call is raucous and enduring: starting with a goose-like honk, graduating to a squawk which is repeated until everyone is listening. I suspect it's the male making the racket.
Don't see much of the female. Now that's a surprise!
Once the rooster with the sore throat gets cranked up in the morning and then the peacock joins in - waking the yapping dog, roommate of the peacocks - there's quite a chorus. And, at about the time, the call to prayer is heard followed by the broadcast throughout the neighborhood of the muezzin's 'sermon.'
Spring mornings at the 'house are early and full of sound.
The Darulaman Palace has blooming trees. And the grounds where we walk/run are spotted with spring colors and movement. A lovely spring arrival.
And a 'field' of them.
The butterflies are doing their thing.
The ants are scurrying about.
There's another layer of rust on the remnants of the Soviet occupation.
But the mountains to the north, haven't quite lost their snowy caps.
The Kabul River has a little more water flowing thanks to snow melt, drowning its huge litter layer until summer. Then the water flow will be less, more and more litter will appear and the goats and sheep will once again have a fertile feeding ground.
And at school...Cricket.New plants. Everything ready to bloom.