When thaw becomes flow

Today is Palm Sunday and next Sunday is Easter, for those who celebrate. Yesterday was the third (inter)national No Kings protest. (The Better Half and I braved mid-day local wind chills in the teens for almost an hour while participating.) This coming Wednesday is April Fools Day. I'm mildly troubled by the juxtaposition of those latter two events but the next demonstrations are planned for May Day, which is also Beltane. With only 365 days to work with most years, we have to do the best we can as we schedule things. It's not just western water rights that are subject to prior appropriation.

late March: time for new growth to flow

Photo by J. Harrington

April Fools Day also brings us the start of National Poetry Month, this year celebrating its thirtieth anniversary. In recognition of the times we're living in, and the times we've lived through, I'm going to celebrate the month by focusing my reading attention on Bob Dylan Lyrics 1962 — 2001. Some of his recordings have been showing up on the shuffle play list in my Jeep, and I find it both reassuring and disconcerting how well many of his lyrics from years ago seem to fit today's tempora et mores.

Large flocks of dark-eyed juncos and of robins have been observed this week past. I'm inclined to tempt fate and take the back blade off the tractor some warmer day this coming week, but not Wednesday. I'm hoping that one day soon warmer weather will arrive and stay and then hanging around outside will be something to look forward to, until the mosquitos and deer flies arrive. But that's weeks away, right? Meanwhile, the last mounds and shaded patches of snow still have to melt.

This year our country celebrates its 250th anniversary. Dylan wrote a song / poem that I believe fits and represents my birthday wishes for this and each succeeding anniversary.

Forever Young

Written by: Bob Dylan

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young          

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.

Spring is sprung, what's next?

Yes, thank you, I have almost recovered from the Spring cold I started coming down with last weekend. Also, once again, the snow cover has finally melted. Locally, things are looking up, but the skies are too often clouded. That hasn't kept the waterfowl from returning. The Sunrise River pools have lots of open water occupied by swans, Canada geese and diving ducks. I also saw the unusual sight of a handful of crows walking along the ice at the edge of open water. Surrounding marshes may contain red-winged blackbirds, but our observations weren't close enough to confirm identification.

returning Canada geese and ducks on Sunrise River in Carlos Avery WMA

Photo by J. Harrington

While suffering the sneezing, coughing, snuffling, nose-blowing, no energy miseries this past week, I had the pleasure of reading most of Rebecca Solnit's The Beginning Comes After the End. So far it's got me, Mr. Gloom and Doom, feeling more optimistic than I have in quite a while. I've lived through and been generally aware of almost all the changes she writes about, but hadn't put them together quite the way she does. Meanwhile, I'm still adjusting to the idea that the future isn't something out there that we adapt to but something all of us are creating by our actions (or inactions) every day.

I'm looking forward to bud burst, leaf out and green up, along with days growing warmer and maybe even occasional sunshine. However, I've lived in the North Country long enough to know better than to prematurely pack away our gear for snow and/or cold weather. Maybe the last few patches of icy snow on the shaded south side of the drive will actually finish melting one of these days and we can look forward to seeing ducklings, goslings and sandhill crane colts as the seasons go round and round.

Of Course It Hurts

by Karin Boye

Of course it hurts when buds burst.
Otherwise why would spring hesitate?
Why would all our fervent longing
be bound in the frozen bitter haze?
The bud was the casing all winter.
What is this new thing, which consumes and bursts?
Of course it hurts when buds burst,
pain for that which grows
and for that which envelops.

Of course it is hard when drops fall.
Trembling with fear they hang heavy,
clammer on the branch, swell and slide -
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the deep pulling and calling,
yet sit there and just quiver -
hard to want to stay
                      and to want to fall.

Then, at the point of agony and when all is beyond help,
the tree’s buds burst as if in jubilation,
then, when fear no longer exists,
the branch’s drops tumble in a shimmer,
forgetting that they were afraid of the new,
forgetting that they were fearful of the journey –
feeling for a second their greatest security,
resting in the trust
                         that creates the world.

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.