Everything is blooming here in Central California -- absolutely everything. It's wonderful and terrible at the same time. Wonderful if your sinuses are clear and you can actually smell the scented air; terrible if you're one of the millions of allergy sufferers. I used to be one of those stuffed up, 'can't smell rotted flesh if it were on my head' types, until I started using various homeopathic cures. Now I get an occasional throbbing headache when the wind's been blowing a bit more than usual. Otherwise, I can smell it all.
Early evening walks are sublime -- sometimes. Roses are everywhere in our neighborhood, their scent wafting on the wind. Add to that jasmine, orange blossom and rock rose, and what we not-so-lovingly refer to around here as 'cum tree' blossoms, which are (I think) ornamental pear trees, and we get a sort of after-sex effect, sans the cigarette smoke. (This is an R-rated blog :D). We're extremely happy when the cum trees stop blooming.
Speaking on the topic of SEX, I had the most pleasant conversation with my 11-year-old son about how, as he puts it, flowers are the hoo-hoos and winkies of plants. Hmmmm. I asked him how he felt about plants showing their junk like that in public, and he just giggled and said, "Well, they look a heck of a lot better than ours do, so I guess it's ok." He then went on to poke the 'winky' of a stargazer lily blossom and exclaimed, "Ooh! It's gooey!"