What is Spring? #phenology

We all know that Spring is neither the first of March (meteorological start of Spring) not March 21 (vernal equinox). Those are but dates on a calendar. Spring is something much more.

Is Spring when the last of the snow has melted, or when the first of the ephemeral wildflowers have bloomed? Is Spring when your favorite lake enjoys ice out, or when there's a band of open water surrounding the shoreline. Is it Spring when waterfowl return? Which ones: tundra swans; Canada geese; wood ducks; mallards? How about red-winged blackbirds bringing back the males rusty hinge sound?

is Spring when leaf buds drop their scales?

Photo by J. Harrington

Does Spring occur with bud burst or leaf out? When tamaracks again turn green? With the return of monarch butterflies? Bluebirds? With the change of goldfinch males into breeding colors? Is it when stream trout season opens? Walleye opener? The beginning of wild turkey season? When toms begin to gobble?

the return of waterfowl often marks Spring

Photo by J. Harrington

Can it be Spring before the loons have returned to the North Country? Do you have a clear marker that means Spring to you, or is it some combination of factors like planting this year's tomatoes after the danger of the last frost has passed? Do you, as we've been known to, desperately grasp sometimes at the earliest possible icon that means Spring because Winter, like any rude house guest, has grossly overstayed its welcome? Or are you, as some we've known behave, one of those who holds off recognizing Spring's arrival until most of the items have been checked off the list. That way there's always more to anticipate and savor before Summer's doldrums have settled in. We've come to the point of marking Spring's arrival with the haunting cries and calls of the local sandhill crane's descent into our nearby wetlands and marshes, or, sometimes, with the sight of bald eagles' astounding mating flights. Candidly, some years we're desperate enough to declare Spring with the first sighting of a kite being flown in a March wind under a bright blue sky.

                     The Enkindled Spring

By D. H. Lawrence

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,

Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,

Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between

Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration

Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze

Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,

Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among

This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed

About like a shadow buffeted in the throng

Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.

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