This one’s been a particularly long winter, with cold winds
right up through the first week of April.
Even the daffodils, crocuses and forsythia have been keeping their buds
squeezed tight, shy about blooming until today, our first day of 70
degrees. So, here’s the
First-Real-Day-Of-Spring report:
The trees are still bare, so I can see birds flitting
about. It’s going to be a sudden
warm-up into the high 70’s to 80’s this entire week, and the migrators
should be arriving soon.
I’ll have to get out and see what colorful return-ees from the tropics I
can spot before the trees start to leaf out.
Today’s wildlife count:
On a short walk along Valley Creek I see: about 20 trout
facing upstream, swaying back and forth and waiting for bugs to come their way, one great blue heron standing like a statue on the opposite bank - also staring
at said fish, 3 deer drinking, then startled, running up the bank
across the trail in front of me, stopping twice to stare, and 2
young garter snakes, slithering through the leaf litter and wild flowers, one chasing the other Bambi-style, towards the
sunny trail and creek below.
There is lots of bird song for accompaniment, and much
rushing and gurgling of the creek water, so it was a full sensorial experience
for which I am grateful. It could not
have arrived at a better time, as those of us who live amidst the changing
seasons really do get grumpy every winter, and are so grateful for the slightest
signs of growth and color breaking through.
What amazes me is the amnesia that happens every year. We truly do forget what is to come, the details of the progression of things, and the miracle of the beauty, until it is upon us again out of the cold grayness of winter. First, the buds appear on the trees and bushes, then one of their flowers blooms here and there, and then in a day or so the explosion of color, in pink, magenta, or yellow on gray bark, finally followed by the green leaves that fill in all the empty spaces. It's all a distant memory of an old promise, now being fulfilled.
What amazes me is the amnesia that happens every year. We truly do forget what is to come, the details of the progression of things, and the miracle of the beauty, until it is upon us again out of the cold grayness of winter. First, the buds appear on the trees and bushes, then one of their flowers blooms here and there, and then in a day or so the explosion of color, in pink, magenta, or yellow on gray bark, finally followed by the green leaves that fill in all the empty spaces. It's all a distant memory of an old promise, now being fulfilled.
