Spring Has Sprung

Blue Cohosh. They are just starting to open up.

Hepaticas are blooming.

Even the pink ones. Aren't those shadows of the stamens beautiful?

Blood roots. More shadows. They even have reflected colour.

Dog-tooth violet.

Someone made it through the winter in the pond.

And, two more someones. Those are the biggest tadpoles we've ever had. I wonder if they will be bullfrogs?

Colts foot flowers even look pretty from behind.

Back in the vegetable garden, Swiss Chard, aka Perpetual Spinach, are loving their cloches. They also survived the winter.

And, the bees are happy to be finding pollen.

Spring has sprung.

“Within the grip of winter, it is almost impossible to imagine the spring.

The gray perished landscape is shorn of color.

Only bleakness meets the eye;

everything seems severe and edged.

Winter is the oldest season;

it has some quality of the absolute.

Yet beneath the surface of winter,

the miracle of spring is already in preparation;

the cold is relenting;

seeds are wakening up.

Colors are beginning to imagine how they will return.

Then, imperceptibly, somewhere one bug opens

and the symphony of renewal is no longer reversible.

From the black heart of winter a miraculous,

breathing plenitude of color emerges.

The beauty of nature insists on taking its time.

Everything is prepared.

Nothing is rushed.

The rhythm of emergence is a gradual slow beat always inching its way forward;

change remains faithful to itself

until the new unfolds in the full confidence of true arrival.

Because nothing is abrupt,

the beginning of spring nearly always catches us unawares.

It is there before we see it;

and then we can look nowhere without seeing it.”

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