Things seen and unseen this Spring day

We say the first appearance of a garter snake today. Well hidden under too many of Autumn's and Winter's perpetually falling oak leaves were a handful of flowers that had emerged and are now blooming in some sunshine. Day lilies have emerged to widely varying extents in locations with widely varying amounts of exposure to the sun. The offending leaves covering much of this activity have been, for the most part, hauled off to the leaf pile at the edge of the woods. Although we don't play golf, we suppose that makes us a duffer of a different kind, a forest duff-er. Light and variable Spring breezes and leaf collecting are not a great combination.

more and more day lilies have appeared

Photo by J. Harrington

The back blade on the tractor doesn't dig deep enough to clear out most of the small seedling brush we're trying to clean up. It helps though by making the seedings easier to pull through the loosened dirt. The three high bush cranberries (Viburnum edule) and two black chokeberry (Aronia sp.) bushes are now planted and watered. We've still to get the ground prepared for wildflower planting. Maybe tomorrow. Then we'll see what the rabbits and deer and turkeys and bear come and munch on.

it's scilla season

Photo by J. Harrington

No sign yet of a pasque flower bloom but we did see some tiny green stems and leaves that offer a glimmer of hope just North of the brush pile. Hopes for getting rid of that Winter brush pile any time soon disappeared today when MNDNR announced Spring burning restrictions. We'll pick up more of the small stuff and toss it into the burn pit we haven't used yet. Meanwhile, the sun is shining, we've made a little progress toward improving our little corner of the world. We mostly helped the Better Half and she did a little vice versa. Today made it pretty clear what we weren't cut out to be a landscape architect or a farmer. We keep falling into the hunter-fisher-gatherer bin instead. It's enough of a challenge to prepare ourselves, let alone seed beds etc.

In Perpetual Spring

By Amy Gerstler

Gardens are also good places

to sulk. You pass beds of

spiky voodoo lilies   

and trip over the roots   

of a sweet gum tree,   

in search of medieval   

plants whose leaves,   

when they drop off   

turn into birds

if they fall on land,

and colored carp if they   

plop into water.

Suddenly the archetypal   

human desire for peace   

with every other species   

wells up in you. The lion   

and the lamb cuddling up. 

The snake and the snail, kissing.

Even the prick of the thistle,   

queen of the weeds, revives   

your secret belief

in perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.

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