Spring’s ap-pear-ance varies

A dozen years ago, the back yard pear tree was in bloom on Tax Day. Not this year. Plus, last year the blossoms were more abundant than the pollinators, so there were very few pears come autumn. From a handful of pictures I’ve taken over the years, the pear tree has been in bloom in May more than April. Another example of Minnesota’s erratic spring phenology?

pear tree in bloom on Tax Day

Photo by J. Harrington

According to the National Phenology Network, spring this year is barely ahead of typical in our region, despite a much milder and less snowy winter than has been typical. That probably means next month is when the majority of wildflowers will be blooming and colorful song birds arriving. Tomorrow’s rain should help green things up in anticipation. On a selfish note, a delayed warmup will provide more opportunities to bake sourdough loaves before it gets too warm to heat up the kitchen. Today’s loaf turned out pretty well.

I’ve noticed that the more I watch for what’s happening, rather than focus on one or two events and wait in anxious anticipation, the more I manage to enjoy the transition of the seasons. That’s kind of how I’ve approached autumn for years, but I tend toward antsy in spring since I really want winter to be gone. Becoming a bread baker hasn’t done much to diminish my aversion to cold and snow.

Since we’re in the midst of National Poetry Month, let me suggest, for your reading pleasure in these taxing times, a volume the Better Half suggested to me the last time we were at a book store, The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace and Renewal. I’m about halfway through and find that reading a handful of its poems in the morning helps ground me for a good part of the day. It also offers a heartening alternative to the daily headlines.

A Blessing

James Wright
1927 – 1980

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

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