Still peekaboo through
bare branches. In no time at all, the
green world will close in, and there will simply be walls of vegetation making
a glimpse of water or even sky difficult.
Meanwhile, the spring bulbs take advantage of the fact that they have
sunbeams to themselves for a little while.
Well, also the insects of course, although knowing what we do about
ecologies and their dense interconnections, you need to wonder if any of the
imported species have actually met compatible pollinators over here.
Each day is a little
like a drag race. Starts pretty cold,
maybe high thirties or low forties, then races up the thermometer with the sun
until, depending on the wind, air hits sixty or higher, only to fall back as
afternoon grows late. Always looks nice,
but you can’t tell what to wear without actually going out for a few minutes,
and then you’re not sure because if you turn a corner into shade or wind you
may need something totally different.
Tue-
Tue-
Dandelions are so fine
in April or March, and so much a pest by later summer. In the beginning, they are cheerful little
outposts of brilliance amidst almost endless brown dirt and dead stalks. Through the magic of our thoughts, they
transform into the deadly enemies of gardeners or of those seeking a
magazine-perfect lawn. Another victim of
our ambivalent consciousness.
This year, it’s pretty
late to be so early, so they are all the more welcome. One of the few species that seems to be able
to keep up with the ecological tragedy that is human effort.
Wed-
Wed-
Blushes of red and
green faintly halo the trees beyond the reeds.
In a few days the crowns will fill in and branches will more or less
disappear. The sky seems impossibly
blue.
Just another April
day, a little cool, nothing that a poet would rhapsodize Our lives are filled
with these “ordinary” moments that are all filled with miracles that we never
notice. Experience is so infinitely
abundant and overwhelming that we too quickly retreat into small trivia we
think we can understand _ like our jobs or fixing the house _ and waste the
gifts all around.
Thu-
Thu-
These few weeks are
demonstrations of microclimates.
Sheltered south-facing terrain is in full blossom, with some of the
earlier species already past peak.
Sound-bordering northern slopes, exposed to the Canadian winds, are
barely greening. The maples here are in
full bloom, but nothing else is willing to make an effort. A half mile away, all the cherries are open
and ready to be blown away with the next storm.
We too easily group
everything together and call it “environment” or “nature’ when in fact it
varies tremendously. “The environment”
is made up of an awful lot of complex variables, which drives scientists nuts
since they can’t control nor easily determine cause. Unfortunately, that rarely cures their
hubris.
Fri-
Fri-
Now the reeds are
getting into the act. Like pokeweed,
they shoot up almost unnoticed in last year’s dry rubble until magically one
day they seem to be everywhere and four or six feet tall. That is always a lesson in how much I miss
even when I am carefully looking.
Once the sun reaches a
certain angle and a couple of warm days have gotten rid of all the left-over
freeze, most annuals are dependent on soil warmth to germinate, and even those
perennials which die all the way back do the same. Trees and birds are slaves to sunlight
length. People _ ah people want it to be
exactly the right temperature all the time.
Sat-
In a few months, this
parking lot will be filled with cars and children and sunbathers will be all
over the beach. Although this area is
one of the least used, it’s convenience keeps a certain popularity, especially
for small kids to play while parents gaze at the water.
Meanwhile, the cold
and school limit visits during the week.
The cherry tree has made it through the blasts of winter unscathed even
though the north wind continues to hold back all the trees along the horizon. I can finally believe warm weather is just
around the corner.
Sun-
These little red
leaves look innocent enough. Just
another cute reminder that spring is here, taking away the dull browns and
whites of hibernation. But of course
this is poison ivy _ in this case a huge plant extending far up a tree by the
side of the road, a constant hazard to people walking by. Those who know better avoid it carefully.
Were it not for the
effects of the sap toxin, it would be a lovely plant. Shiny, bright green all spring and summer,
gorgeous red and orange in autumn, cute whitish berries in winter. Wildlife loves it. But like any of our own internal fatal flaws,
that one little factor makes all the difference in how we perceive it.
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