Shining some light on the season

Sunrise in our area is clearly returning toward the north. Around Christmas it rose far enough south that it didn’t get in my eyes when I was at my desk looking out the window facing east. This morning I had to draw the drape on the southern side of that window to keep the sun out of my eyes so I could see the computer screen in front of me. By May, sunrise will have moved far enough north that it once again won’t be bothersome but for the next couple of months it will be rising in the middle half of the window.

February sunrise

Photo by J. Harrington

Many of the oak trees around the house are still holding onto their dead leaves. Some will loosen their grip from time to time but many will hold on until this year’s leaf buds begin to swell along about late April. I’m not sure if any foresters have checked, but I wouldn’t be too surprised to learn that Minnesota oaks drop leaves almost every one of the eleven months of the year that it snows in this state.

Based on what I glimpsed late yesterday afternoon after posting the day’s blog, I’m not the only one anticipating spring’s arrival. I saw what I think were four sandhill cranes fly over the house and treeline toward the Sunrise river pools in Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area. Alternatively, it might have been four Canada geese but the wing shapes looked more like cranes. By the time I noticed them they were too far away to be sure of the size/distance relationship. In either case, it was a sign of spring even if somewhat premature. I’ll be keeping my eyes and ears open to affirm any  additional arrivals in the weeks ahead.

Day After Daylight Savings

By Margaret Hasse

Blue numbers on my bedside clock

tell I forgot to change the hour.

This sets routines on haywire.

 

Like a domestic goat staked

to its circle of earth,

I don’t do well untethered.

 

I have no hunger for early dinner,

become confused by the sound

of children who seem out

 

too late for a school night.

They’ve found an extra helping

of daylight to romp on new grass

 

and can’t contain themselves,

strip off jackets, scatter

like a rag of ponies.

 

Whatever time says,

their joy insists

on springing forward.

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