On this day of the Spring Equinox, I was finally able to be outside, stacking wood for next year, cutting out invasive barberry, and collecting maple sap on what was a perfect March day in Maine. We're in that magical time in between seasons, with the bitter cold over but patches of snow still on the ground and no sign yet of either buds on the trees or black flies.
I love you all...I have opted out this week from reading anything...and pray the world stays on its axis. My mom died on Tuesday. It was March 13, 2020 that I last kissed her goodbye as her assisted living went in to lockdown. On March 16,2021 she succumbed to the Covid Confinement. 1 year of lying in bed, looking out a window or sitting in a chair...all day...took its grim toll. I was scheduled for my second shot and an arrival visit Mom date of April 8. My heart hurts. She counts as a casualty of this virus, please don’t forget our elders.
Spring time! It has been a beautiful day here in Texas. The Monarch butterflies have been back for over a week now. I've even seen a June bug. The wildflowers haven't blossomed yet but it shouldn't be too long. Then it will look like lakes of Bluebonnets. One of the best things Lady Bird Johnson did for Texas and the country was the Highway Beautification Act sowing wild flowers in the medians and sides of the Interstates and removing the clutter of billboards. See the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center website for a peak at Texas spring time: https://www.wildflower.org/magazine Enjoy!
I've begun to look forward to your Saturday night photos and good-nights as much as to the Letter from an American that will be my first read the next, and every, morning.
Nothing beats getting outside and working, even if the soil is still soggy, and starting to tackle all the projects one envisions in winter. Today, I dug up two daylilies, a euphorbia, and a daphne. I'm making room for rose bushes that I bought as a birthday gift for my mother-in-law. As I worked, a woman I've seen in the neighborhood but never met called out from across the street. She was walking a tiny dog, and her cat followed closed by. "What are you going to do with the plants?" Give then away, I said. Long story short, I took the daphne to her house and planted it. She was thrilled, then explained what a rough year it had been, learning she had cancer and ungergoing treatment. "I'm going to be OK," she said, smiling down at the daphne.
Yesterday, in Norway, I sat down on a bench out of doors for the first time this year. Not because I had to rest during a hike, but because the sun was finally warm enough. The first shot of the vaccine in my arm.
Thank you Heather for a glimpse into your world and your diligent and superlative commentaries. They are always intrinsically both intellectually and emotionally digestible. They nourish, calm, inspire — everything good writing can be and can do for the soul. I am grateful for them. I woke at 6am to a spring chorus of seagulls, crows, robins, blackbirds and surf floating through my window. Fleecy mares tail clouds fly above the sea and a hawk has found a thermal over the town and is rising upwards looking for some perfect view, or perhaps just breakfast. Today the sand trucks are on the move. It’s cleanup time. All winter the sand blows wild and accumulates on the prom and carpark, big drifts that get higher with every storm. It is no fun at all trying to bicycle over them. Now they are all being scooped up and transported back to the surf line. Mini grey pyramids will dot the water line all day. Then the tide will come in and melt them. Wash everything clean and flat again. A clean slate. A new fresh beginning. The spring season can now commence.
Indeed! Spring, the rebirth, when the world awakens and becomes new again, seems to mean so much more this year. We emrge from a winter of more than our discontent.
My left arm is sore from my second Pfizer shot, but I'll work that out with the rake today, with the sun warm on my shoulder, and the ice receding on the lake.
My husband and I spent the day hiking on winter-soft legs, with ski poles and metal cleats, an icy wilderness trail to Chickering Bog. I know exactly what you mean about this breathless time between seasons. The sun on our faces, the breath of the cold woods, old stone walls furred with the bright and busy mosses. Woodpeckers. The wide bog of stunted cedars, and there a young family sprawled on the catwalk, eating a picnic lunch. A child with bare arms smiled at us as she tossed bits of popcorn onto the ice. Life is full of miracles.
Hear, hear! Couldn't agree more. I spent the day at a mass vaccination clinic with the blustery weather, rain, sun, blowing, freezing, repeat and it was a joy to be part of moving the pandemic off center stage.
We're a little ahead of you down here on the Ma coast. There are buds showing on the trees, and the true harbinger of spring is what I call the colorcast of a large willow tree next door beside the pond. It gives off a yellowish glow well before anything else wakes up. In December, in a fit of pandemic fatigue, my wife enlisted a gardener to plant 1000 daffodil and hyacinth bulbs. She said she needed something bursting with pride come spring, pandemic still around or not. This frugal New England curmudgeon was appalled at the extravagance (that's a lotta bulbs!), since our yard has previously been stripped of every bulb I ever planted...skunks, woodchucks, who ever knows? have feasted at my expense for years......She was sure they'd come up,though, because the gardener promised her that "nothing eats daffodils." Well.....something is eating something out there, because there are 4" holes and the remains of munched-on plant material in a few places. Whatever it is, I don't suppose he or she can ruin all 1000 bulbs; some will make it, as I see them peeking their heads up in bunches here and there.
Can't keep myself inside! Spring here in Boise, Idaho, and I am already in my garden most of the day, clearing dead stuff from around my perennials. watching things bud out and pop up from the ground, and planting lettuce and broccoli in my raised beds. Happy time!
Yup, we all need some brain drain rest! I sat by a fire pit with some friends today and tomorrow (Sunday) we’ll play our first round of golf for the season. Still a little snow on the fairways, but we can work around that! Most of us are getting our 2nd shot this week and while we won’t throw all caution to the wind, there will be a spring (literally) in our steps. Relief too that in 2 more weeks, our chances of dying from Covid, drop to zero (at least for awhile!) Another bright spot - not hearing trump or any of the looney tunes in his cabinet and family. We can now redirect our rants and raves to our golf game :)
I love you all...I have opted out this week from reading anything...and pray the world stays on its axis. My mom died on Tuesday. It was March 13, 2020 that I last kissed her goodbye as her assisted living went in to lockdown. On March 16,2021 she succumbed to the Covid Confinement. 1 year of lying in bed, looking out a window or sitting in a chair...all day...took its grim toll. I was scheduled for my second shot and an arrival visit Mom date of April 8. My heart hurts. She counts as a casualty of this virus, please don’t forget our elders.
Spring time! It has been a beautiful day here in Texas. The Monarch butterflies have been back for over a week now. I've even seen a June bug. The wildflowers haven't blossomed yet but it shouldn't be too long. Then it will look like lakes of Bluebonnets. One of the best things Lady Bird Johnson did for Texas and the country was the Highway Beautification Act sowing wild flowers in the medians and sides of the Interstates and removing the clutter of billboards. See the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center website for a peak at Texas spring time: https://www.wildflower.org/magazine Enjoy!
I've begun to look forward to your Saturday night photos and good-nights as much as to the Letter from an American that will be my first read the next, and every, morning.
Nothing beats getting outside and working, even if the soil is still soggy, and starting to tackle all the projects one envisions in winter. Today, I dug up two daylilies, a euphorbia, and a daphne. I'm making room for rose bushes that I bought as a birthday gift for my mother-in-law. As I worked, a woman I've seen in the neighborhood but never met called out from across the street. She was walking a tiny dog, and her cat followed closed by. "What are you going to do with the plants?" Give then away, I said. Long story short, I took the daphne to her house and planted it. She was thrilled, then explained what a rough year it had been, learning she had cancer and ungergoing treatment. "I'm going to be OK," she said, smiling down at the daphne.
Yesterday, in Norway, I sat down on a bench out of doors for the first time this year. Not because I had to rest during a hike, but because the sun was finally warm enough. The first shot of the vaccine in my arm.
Thank you Heather for a glimpse into your world and your diligent and superlative commentaries. They are always intrinsically both intellectually and emotionally digestible. They nourish, calm, inspire — everything good writing can be and can do for the soul. I am grateful for them. I woke at 6am to a spring chorus of seagulls, crows, robins, blackbirds and surf floating through my window. Fleecy mares tail clouds fly above the sea and a hawk has found a thermal over the town and is rising upwards looking for some perfect view, or perhaps just breakfast. Today the sand trucks are on the move. It’s cleanup time. All winter the sand blows wild and accumulates on the prom and carpark, big drifts that get higher with every storm. It is no fun at all trying to bicycle over them. Now they are all being scooped up and transported back to the surf line. Mini grey pyramids will dot the water line all day. Then the tide will come in and melt them. Wash everything clean and flat again. A clean slate. A new fresh beginning. The spring season can now commence.
"Happy spring, everyone."
Indeed! Spring, the rebirth, when the world awakens and becomes new again, seems to mean so much more this year. We emrge from a winter of more than our discontent.
My left arm is sore from my second Pfizer shot, but I'll work that out with the rake today, with the sun warm on my shoulder, and the ice receding on the lake.
Happy spring, everyone!
Happy Mud Season Heather! As a former rural New Englander I say: may your boots be leak proof and your kettle always on the simmer. xxoo
Here in TX, bluebonnets now dot my front yard. If only I could attach a picture ....
It was a gorgeous spring day here in the SF Bay Area. Took the dogs on a long hike through the Berkeley hills. I love your photos from Maine.
My husband and I spent the day hiking on winter-soft legs, with ski poles and metal cleats, an icy wilderness trail to Chickering Bog. I know exactly what you mean about this breathless time between seasons. The sun on our faces, the breath of the cold woods, old stone walls furred with the bright and busy mosses. Woodpeckers. The wide bog of stunted cedars, and there a young family sprawled on the catwalk, eating a picnic lunch. A child with bare arms smiled at us as she tossed bits of popcorn onto the ice. Life is full of miracles.
Anyone else hungry for lobster after seeing the photo?
Broiled lobster, boiled lobster, lobster roll, lobster salad, lobster skewers, lobster mac & cheese, lobster bisque, lobster chowder, lobster pizza.
Lobster pizza???
Hear, hear! Couldn't agree more. I spent the day at a mass vaccination clinic with the blustery weather, rain, sun, blowing, freezing, repeat and it was a joy to be part of moving the pandemic off center stage.
We're a little ahead of you down here on the Ma coast. There are buds showing on the trees, and the true harbinger of spring is what I call the colorcast of a large willow tree next door beside the pond. It gives off a yellowish glow well before anything else wakes up. In December, in a fit of pandemic fatigue, my wife enlisted a gardener to plant 1000 daffodil and hyacinth bulbs. She said she needed something bursting with pride come spring, pandemic still around or not. This frugal New England curmudgeon was appalled at the extravagance (that's a lotta bulbs!), since our yard has previously been stripped of every bulb I ever planted...skunks, woodchucks, who ever knows? have feasted at my expense for years......She was sure they'd come up,though, because the gardener promised her that "nothing eats daffodils." Well.....something is eating something out there, because there are 4" holes and the remains of munched-on plant material in a few places. Whatever it is, I don't suppose he or she can ruin all 1000 bulbs; some will make it, as I see them peeking their heads up in bunches here and there.
Happy spring indeed.
Can't keep myself inside! Spring here in Boise, Idaho, and I am already in my garden most of the day, clearing dead stuff from around my perennials. watching things bud out and pop up from the ground, and planting lettuce and broccoli in my raised beds. Happy time!
Yup, we all need some brain drain rest! I sat by a fire pit with some friends today and tomorrow (Sunday) we’ll play our first round of golf for the season. Still a little snow on the fairways, but we can work around that! Most of us are getting our 2nd shot this week and while we won’t throw all caution to the wind, there will be a spring (literally) in our steps. Relief too that in 2 more weeks, our chances of dying from Covid, drop to zero (at least for awhile!) Another bright spot - not hearing trump or any of the looney tunes in his cabinet and family. We can now redirect our rants and raves to our golf game :)