March is . . .
March 23, 2013 § Leave a comment
“March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice.” – Hal Borland
Strawberry plants
May 15, 2012 § 1 Comment
Strawberry season doesn’t begin in Wisconsin until about mid-June; this photo with already-formed berries is from plants that have been forced in greenhouses at the Minnesota Food Association. As a reward for volunteering there two weekends ago (or a matter of being in the right place at the right time), I got to eat a ripe one. Yes. I did.
Our own plants out in the front of the house have their first white blossoms on them. I like walking out to see them, the petals all cheerful and promising fruit. Strawberry plants are just cute. They can’t help it. They mean high spring and summer’s beginning.
Robin’s eggs
May 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
I came across them in a nest tucked just inside the doorway of an unused shed, when I was bicycling around this afternoon taking photos of our farms. The mother robin flapped outside the moment I set a foot in the door – well, I did thump in heavily, as I was avoiding bristly weeds. And then I saw her nest, and peered in hopefully. There they were.
Four little eggs. So well-shaped. The loveliest of blues.
Silly, dreamy love songs
April 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
Happy to hear this one today, for no particular reason. Or maybe because it’s spring.
A country lad
April 22, 2012 § 2 Comments
The Passionate Shepherd
Who can live in heart so glad
As the merry country lad?
Who upon a fair green balk
May at pleasure sit and walk,
And amid the azure skies
See the morning sun arise;
While he hears in every spring
How the birds do chirp and sing;
Or before the hounds in cry
See the hare go stealing by;
Or along the shallow brook
Angling with a baited hook,
See the fishes leap and play
In a blessed sunny day;
Or to hear the partridge call
Till she have her covey all;
Or to see the subtle fox,
How the villain plies the box,
After feeding on his prey
How he closely sneaks away
Through the hedge and down the furrow,
Till he gets into his burrow;
Then the bee to gather honey,
And the little black hair’d coney
On a bank for sunny place
With her forefeet wash her face:
Are not these, with thousands moe
Than the courts of kings do know,
The true pleasing-spirits sights
That may breed true love’s delights?
– Nicholas Breton
Snow in April
April 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
After that somewhat strenuous drive home through a pouring thunderstorm, and a much cozier evening tucked under the covers, and a very nice sleep, I woke up to see white out the window.
What?
I did know, actually, that flurries were in the forecast, but I thought that meant petty little flurries. Rain that just briefly, for a second, turns into snow. Not enough to be completely white and flying sideways with the wind.
Only later, after a solid morning’s work, did I get out for a walk to snap some shots, so the melt had already begun. Even now there is little left. Though, tonight is still supposed to be cold.
Oh, funny spring.
Come walk through the woods with Tassie and me:
Woodland, farmland, and our new home
April 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
The buds keep coming forth. The leaves brush around my feet. The dogs rush back and forth, sniffing branches, finding animal carcasses, carrying sticks around with personal pride. The sunlight flickers through the trees and falls into patterns on the ground like a kind of intangible lace.
We walk in the woods, now that we have left Colorado behind, left Iowa behind, and settled in Wisconsin to help in the building of a dream. The restoration of a place. Suddenly I have a job in the rural Upper Midwest, where I’ll be reaching out to community, planning events and workshops, and fostering the wonderful oneness of sustainable agriculture and habitat restoration. I find myself thinking, often, Is this a dream? Luck, perhaps? It is something, anyhow, that ought to be meandered through with consciousness and purpose. Yes, and gratitude.
In the spring
March 23, 2012 § 1 Comment
“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood
Greening
March 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
In Iowa March usually thaws and snows. Thaws a hesitant little and snows a whole lot. Then thaws with a bit more confidence, to be set back perhaps with another storm or two. Doesn’t it? I keep waiting for the freak blizzard (which really isn’t freak) and yet it doesn’t come. This year March has surprised us with a steady stretch of 80-degree days. Follow that with mild/warm temperatures, overcast skies, and intermittent rains.
The world greens quickly.
We seemed to notice each phase of green overtaking tan, of grasses rushing out of dormancy to full spring life.
I swear I could see a difference in the depth of green from day’s beginning to day’s end.
Now we have small lilac bushes putting forth buds.
The trees in the orchard prepare for leaves. Flowers and fruit to follow.
The strawberry patch is dotted with merry saw-toothed leaves.
I smell dirt. The damp of grass. Inside we drink tea, but outside we abandon jackets. We wipe muddy paws, and leave shoes at the door.
Spring.
Kinds of Honey 