well sprung

Spring has lasted a long time this year. Possibly because so many things that were going on in April and May made time seem to stand still. Hazel's unexpected and rapid decline. Two drives halfway across the state that each meant several days of physical recovery to get back to baseline levels of pain and fatigue. A fostered rescue dog who was here for 10 very unfortunately goat-targeting days and 10 gruelingly sleep-fractured nights. And days of rain. Lots and lots of rain.

This year I waited so long to hear the first chirping of spring peepers during evening chores that I finally wondered if my increasing hearing loss meant I was simply unable to hear them: a thought that immediately led to scheduling a new hearing test. By the time the test rolled around - yesterday, in fact, and my hearing has indeed deteriorated further - the peepers were here and I had heard them, at least faintly, while walking the fosterdog at night.

The period of the annual leafing out of deciduous tree species felt delightfully long. It seemed as though a great many weeks passed between the first hints of color high up in the maple branches, and the pointillistic effect of entire mixed-species forests beginning to leaf out; one of my most treasured views each year.

But now the bloodroot flowers - which tell me that Winter is over - are just a memory, and the bloodroot leaves have grown into their remarkable sizes and shapes that seem just as fanciful and unlikely no matter how many times I see it happen. Jack-in-the-Pulpit has popped up in expected and unexpected places. The sugar maple leaves are still drooping a bit but are already far past the softest stage that always makes me think of the most delicate leather.

And two days ago we arrived at the point where looking out any window in my little house creates the feeling of being submerged in a wide sea of trees and green foliage. A bit like a kelp forest, but much brighter and more varied. I always look forward to this, even though it also means that the structural details of the forest canopy become largely invisible again until leaf fall, many months away. Something lost, something gained. Isn't that always the way? Maybe not always. Maybe just when we're lucky.

Now how are things in your neck of the woods?

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happening

I love the brief period each Spring when forested landscapes
 look a bit like pointillistic paintings.

Things start happening fast at this time of year, even when the weather is all over the place. It was 32F this morning but when I visited the terrace garden to ponder a redesign, I discovered that the raspberry canes which had appeared completely dormant a few days ago are now sprouting leaves in lush abundance. Since part of the garden redesign directly involves the raspberry plants, I'd better get on it right away. Like yesterday.

A couple of years ago, I decided to level a section of the very sloped terrace garden. The project began with creating a retaining barrier at the downslope end, about 18 feet long and a couple of feet high, just above the raspberry plants. I built it using salvaged saplings dragged across the paddocks and pinned into place with metal fenceposts. Then I moved some of the soil from the uphill end of the plot to the downhill end, and spread a barn's-worth of used goat bedding over the whole thing. The result was a thrillingly level plot of about 18 feet by 12 feet.

This part of the terrace garden is where I usually grow lots of pole beans, and last year I reduced the bean rows from three to two so I could plant tomatoes and Turkish peppers there as well. And of course, zinnias, planted in a single row just above the raspberries, at the very edge of the retaining barrier. I may have been a bit unrealistic about the amount of space required by some of these plants; getting in amongst the tomatoes without treading on any stems - or tomatoes - was quite a trick by August. And the poor zinnias were growing in all sorts of leggy directions to access the bits of sunlight not already occupied by either the waving stems of raspberries to the West or the shrubby jungle of tomatoes to the East. They tried so hard!

Revisiting the glorious zinnias of 2019

I really missed having a wide  row of colorful zinnias last summer, and will plan better this year. But I'm also hoping to level out more of the terrace area, because it's so much more relaxing to work in the garden when I'm not at frequent risk of tumbling over.

Speaking of which, has anyone else noticed that doctors have started asking, "have you had any falls recently?" The first time, I was startled that a doctor could tell how clumsy I am just from the way I walked into the exam room! But when the same question came up again at my next annual physical, I decided it's one of those "age" things. I always answer honestly, of course, and the answer is always the same: "Yes, but not for no reason."

~~~~~

random snapday

 

Last week we had, in no particular order, temps ranging from high 80s to below freezing. During one of the warmer days, the outdoor shower was unpacked again - huzzah! Shower Assembly Day is now right up there with Hose Installation Day (which also happened last week) as a celebratory seasonal event. Hose Day signals the seasonal end of carrying bucket after bucket of water from the house to the paddocks every day. Being able to clean and fill all the waterers "on the spot" is a thrill which does not get old.

 ~~~

The goldfinches are coloring up!

There is a small flock of goldfinches at the feeders every day. More than any other birds here, the goldfinches spend more time trying to scold each other away from the feeders than they spend actually eating, which is a pity because there is plenty of room and plenty of seed for all of them.

~~~

From the "What A Difference A Week Makes" department...

sugar maple (Acer saccharum), 16 April (above) and today:

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The black flies are here. They began to roll in a couple of days ago, and apparently have now caught up on all their tiny housekeeping tasks, and can devote themselves to biting. Which means it's time for me to pull out all the spray bottles of herbal concoctions and check my notes from last year to see what worked best and what the goats hated least.

Wish me luck.

~~~

Are you planning some nice things to do this weekend? So far, the only plan I've come up with is "make a trip to the dump" so clearly advice is needed!

~~~~~

arrival

Does everyone have their own cue for when Spring is "really" here?

For many folks, I think it may be plants - individually or collectively - that close the door on Winter. Maybe it's the first sign of ferns:

or daffodils.

Maybe it's the soft and delicate columbine:

or the dazzling pool of color provided by a crocus cluster,

or even the first sight of an insect enjoying the pollen within:

For me, amongst all the signs and sights, 

there is one cue that signals Spring Is Here. 

The appearance of the first bloodroot:

I've been watching. It appeared this morning.

No matter what wild weather we may experience in the weeks ahead, it will not mean Winter was just taking a breather and has come roaring back.

For me, Spring is here.

What are your personal cues for the arrival of Spring? Please leave a comment and share your unique view, whether you are heading into Spring or Autumn or some other season in your world right now.

~~~~~

greens

A few quick snaps

along the path between house and barn.

mayapple - Podophyllum peltatum

hawthorn - Crataegus

(will update when species identified)

bluebead lily - Clintonia borealis

mapleleaf viburnum - Viburnum acerifolium

anise hyssop - Agastache foeniculum

sugar maple - Acer saccharum

wild ginger - Asarum europaeum

bloodroot - Sanguinaria canadensis

~~~~~

ready for the close-up

A tiny violet growing on the Upper West Side

Wild highbush blueberries by the workshop

Clintonia borealis - Bluebead lily or yellow clintonia -

along the path to the stiltbarn

~~~~~

wordless wednesday

~~~~~

weekend snapshots

It has been a hot, sunny weekend.

I mean, hot.

And sunny.

I had to take off my flannel shirt. And put on a visor.

And now, at 5 in the evening, 

I've had to come inside for a while to cool off.

Good time to post a few snapshots!

~~~

Yesterday, after doing the recycling,

Piper and I went for a stroll by the pond.

This is Piper, strolling:

The maples were flowering.

And the sky really was that blue.

See? Even in reflection. Very blue.

But when you look beneath the reflection,

you also see green and yellow.

(A few weeks ago, this was ice. Remember?)

There was a lot of green at the water's edge, too.

These reeds are vibrant.

Back at home, there is also a bit of green.

Softer green.

I almost cried when I saw these fragile bloodroot flowers.

Bloodroot is always a miracle to me.

And this year, even more so.

Because these very few and tiny plants 

mean the goatbarn builder

did not kill all my bloodroot with his skidder.

I love bloodroot.

~~~

Now, does anyone know what this little plant is called?

This amazing plant that is already poised to flower?

It's one of the many, many perennials

given to me by a generous friend last autumn.

She told me what most of them were, and when I got home,

I tried to remember.

And as I planted them, I carefully placed a label next to each.

I laughed yesterday when I saw this plant's label:

"mottled"

True enough, as far as it goes!

Does anyone know what it is?

The flower may be purple, if that helps.

~~~

I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend!

Are you gardening yet?

It seems like I am so far behind everyone else,

but here the ground is only now warming up.

OHHHH!

As I was typing,

the first hummingbird just swooped by!!!

Must go prepare the feeder.

Huzzah!

~~~~~

right now

~~~~~

here

I've been watching Spring appear on blogs all over the northern hemisphere. 

Watching and waiting.

Waiting and watching.

And now it's here.

It's HERE!

Wildflowers are coming up,

the early leaves showing the nipping effects of frost.

(And sometimes, hens.)

It's not always a smooth entry into Spring. 

But the plants prevail!

There's green everywhere, but also purple.

Lots of purple.

And soon, unless we have more frost (or snow),

there will be tiny yellow lilies blooming here.

It's the madcap rush of Spring.

The view is changing by the hour.

~~~

With the little barn up,

I must now focus on the gardens.

And quickly.

Lots of prep work still to be done, 

but I had to wait for the heavy equipment

to come (and tear things up) and go

before making final decisions about locations.

Meanwhile...

I think some of these little seedlings

are ready for the big world.

But...it's rainy today.

And rain is predicted for the next nine days.

NINE days.

(That's just how far the forecast goes.

For all I know, there's another 31 predicted.)

So, what should I do?

Should I be trying to get these fragile, housegrown plants

into the ground right away?

Or should I be glad I haven't planted them already,

just in time to be washed away? 

I don't know the answer, but I hope you do!

These leggy seedlings seem to need more 

than their tiny peat balls and a window,

and someone to turn the trays around every day.

Dear gardeners:

How can I help them through this phase and into

a bright and productive future?

Advice very welcome!

~~~

And one more picture,

of one of my very favorite trees:

Fagus grandifolia, American Beech.

Beautiful at every season.

~~~~~