Saturday, May 31, 2014

Spring beauties

We all know that Spring is a time of new beginnings, right? Sometimes, though, some of us (OK, me) loose track of all that can mean. Driving Highway 8 this morning on our way to Marine on St. Croix to buy some of what may be the world's universe's best chocolate for a friend's birthday present, we were reminded of an oft-missed delight of Spring when we noticed our local buffalo herd was on the road side of their pasture where we could see lots of calves in the herd. For those of you who don't often get a chance to see such a sight as part of your normal travels, enjoy.

buffalo herd with Spring calves
buffalo herd with Spring calves           © harrington

Although mom and dad are looking kind of scruffy as they lose their Winter coats, the youngsters look sweet and swift. Speaking of swift, have you noticed that the earliest wildflowers are starting to swiftly fade as we move from May to June and from Spring into Summer. Season's changes are reflected in the recently opened wildflowers that can be found blooming in little noticed corners of our world.

roadside wildflowers
 roadside wildflowers       © harrington

Another sign that our seasons are once again changing is visible in this clear indication that the water levels in the St. Croix River have begun to drop. So, after reading this, go outside, enjoy! Come back when you've had enough of the mosquitos.

high water mark on St. Croix
high water mark on St. Croix    © harrington

Planting the Meadow

By Mary Makofske 

I leave the formal garden of schedules
where hours hedge me, clip the errant sprigs
of thought, and day after day, a boxwood
topiary hunt chases a green fox
never caught. No voice calls me to order
as I enter a dream of meadow, kneel
to earth and, moving east to west, second
the motion only of the sun. I plant
frail seedlings in the unplowed field, trusting
the wildness hidden in their hearts. Spring light
sprawls across false indigo and hyssop,
daisies, flax. Clouds form, dissolve, withhold
or promise rain. In time, outside of time,
the unkempt afternoons fill up with flowers.


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