|March snow shower powders fields|
Photo by J. Harrington
Meanwhile, inside the house, the hyacinths on the window sill are in full bloom. The crocuses (croci?) are being shy and look like they won't be in flower for at least several days more. I'm developing an obsessive compulsion to see and hear flowing water (the Sunrise River pools are more lakelike than streamlike) and see and smell (forced) forsythia in bloom. I get like this almost every Spring, antsy to hear the mating songs of frogs and the singing of crickets while still there remains an abysmal number of last year's oak leaves clinging to their branches.
Spring's increasing warmth hasn't yet caused all of this year's oak buds to swell enough to force the leaf stems to release. Unlike recalcitrant oak leaves, longer days have triggered a growing restlessness in me to get more active, get out, float around and see what's going on. That may help explain yesterday's ambitious pruning of some branches that were partially blocking the view North from the end of the driveway. Even when using pruning sealant, I like to prune oaks during Winter to minimize oak wilt threat (the guidance doesn't clarify whether it refers to meteorological Spring or astronomical Spring). At least one of them has now arrived and I'm grateful.
Sky a shook poncho.Roof wrung. Mind a luna mothCaught in a banjo.This weather’s wittyPeek-a-boo. A study inInsincerity.Blues! Blooms! The yodelOf the chimney in night wind.That flat daffodil.With absurd hauteurNew tulips dab their shadowsIn water-mutter.Boys are such oxen.Girls! — sepal-shudder, shadow-Waver. Equinox.Plums on the Quad didBlossom all at once, takingDown the power grid.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.