A between storms lull

More signs of spring, better than spring blizzards, are appearing in the lull between storms. The Sunrise River pools were hosting several bunches of mallards, fresh from southern grounds. A tom turkey was displaying for his harem of more than a dozen hens along a nearby county road. Birdsong persists in the morning despite the fresh snow cover. If only the forecast weren’t for an additional six to twelve inches tomorrow, on top of the nine inches we got Friday, I might feel almost springy myself. Ah well, all the more to look forward to!

tom turkey: fan-tailed mating display

Photo by J. Harrington

Between a basically snowless winter and an early Easter (next weekend), my sense of spring as an emergence has been thoroughly disrupted this year. Once the latest round of snow melts, I’m promising myself a wander into the nearby wetlands to look for skunk cabbage. Marsh marigolds should show up some time late next month and trilliums after that. In the midst of tomorrow and Monday’s storm, reading about fly fishing and turkey hunting will serve as a comfortable substitute for the real things. Until Palm Sunday..., unless I get worn out clearing snow.

For the Bird Singing before Dawn

Kim Stafford

Some people presume to be hopeful
when there is no evidence for hope,
to be happy when there is no cause.
Let me say now, I’m with them.

In deep darkness on a cold twig
in a dangerous world, one first
little fluff lets out a peep, a warble,
a song—and in a little while, behold:

the first glimmer comes, then a glow
filters through the misty trees,
then the bold sun rises, then
everyone starts bustling about.

And that first crazy optimist, can we
forgive her for thinking, dawn by dawn,
“Hey, I made that happen!
And oh, life is so fine.”