In memory of the late, great(?) spring of 2022 #phenology

This is often a hungry time of year for many wild creatures in the North Country. It’s also the time of year when the root cellar can be mostly empty and, with the season running two to four weeks behind “normal,” it could be even longer than usual before a new season’s harvest offers respite from last year’s preserves. April can be a productive time for foraging, but this year there are few, if any, signs of new growth. Much as I like the idea of a local food system, season’s like this one make me wonder how well a local system can avoid seasonal shortages. But then, with Governors like Abbott of Texas, we can experience shortages as part of a disrupted global system controlled by oligarchs and wannabes.

April 30, 2021

Photo by J. Harrington

This morning we visited the Daughter Person, Son-In-Law and Granddaughter. On the way home, I slowly drove along a ditch that, by the end of April last year, was bursting with new growth [see above]. I saw no glimpse of green anywhere. It’s going to be interesting to see how spring develops this year since we again have a week of cloudy, cool weather forecast.

North of us the season is at least as far behind according to reports from the KAXE phenology group.

It's a late spring, probably not going to be our latest ever but will fall into the top 10. He reminds us to look for those little signs of spring that bring us all a little bit of hope! In the meantime, check out the student phenology reports from this week- they're a treat!

On the brighter side, our Spring Greens CSA first share is due April 29. I believe they rely on greenhouses for the early season shares. Will we get fresh greens by month’s end? Will the ditches on the way to the farm have marsh marigolds in bloom? Stay tuned!

There Will Come Soft Rains

Sara Teasdale - 1884-1933

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

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