Will there be enough sun? Enough rain? Will there be another frost? Will the bees visit?
Even though answers to these questions dictate whether their ultimate disposition is fruitful, or to become fertilizer, or both, it’s doubtful that these buds are concerned at all.
They’ve waited seasons to soften and protrude from their winter stem, unwaveringly hopeful, resolved to grow toward their fate, whether conditions are agreeable or not.
An old story says that a rabbit saw a worm climbing the trunk of a tree in early Spring. The tree was standing near the last bit of snow, wearing limbs still barren from Winter. “To eat an apple” replied the worm when the rabbit asked where he was going. “There are no apples up there.” remarked the rabbit. “There will be by the time I make my way up to the branches.” the worm replied with confidence.