Spring's emergence #phenology

Today is the last day of meteorological Winter (for this year). We admit we've been getting jealous as we read reports of early flowers blooming, sandhill cranes arriving, and skunk cabbage emerging just a few hundred miles or so South of us. Perhaps to compensate, today Mother Nature sent a few purple finches to our feeder. At least we think they were purple finches, although we didn't get a clear look at their tails. (Here's a helpful guide to purple versus house finch identification.)

purple finches, forked tails

Photo by J. Harrington

Even though tomorrow is the first day of meteorological Spring, we're going to wait for another 6 to 8 inches of snow cover to melt on the sand plain behind the house before we head back to the wetlands to seek emerging skunk cabbage. With luck, and continuing warm weather, we'll have a report in a week or two, or so. If Spring actually does move North at between 10 and 15 miles a day, two weeks would be about the right time for it to reach us if it's just beginning down near Milwaukee and Chicago. Two weeks was also about the difference in emergence of skunk cabbage locally, with 2016 being later that much later than last year.

skunk cabbage, late March 2016

Photo by J. Harrington

We're starting one of the most interesting and exciting times of the year, the reemergence of life after a long Winter's nap. Enjoy!

A Blessing

James Wright, 1927 - 1980

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

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