The blooming quince flowers are more than common poppy copycats. Flamenco dresses of red petals bring summer early, while their stamen are bunched into diminutive haystacks. I cannot tell you about the sour fruit to come, or how generous the harvest will be. I haven't tasted quince jelly with my Spanish grandmother, can only tell you that, in the moments before she passed, her eyes widened like an owl's, and the light that filtered through the blinds was brilliant like an orchard's worth of quince flowers, as if they were simultaneously sacrificing each other, knowing neither would see their fruits again.
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