Here in Maryland its’s raining hard and there are flood warnings throughout the state. But more importantly spring is coming, and I’ve got proof. The crocus are up and are, as usual, a most spectacular sight after the drabness of February.  But there are other more subtle indications:

A small patch of moss between the stones and fallen tree limbs. Beds of dried oak leaves threaten to encompass entire lengths of woods. Looking closer beyond the decay are more signs of life:

Snowbells arrise in clumps of dark green.

Violets begin to claim space along the banks of Herring Run, where the soil is most sandy and shallow. Soon their purple and white flowers will blossom into a carpet of color.

Even now the redbuds are on the branches, ready to explode into magenta and pink, until the whole tree is engulfed in gaudy, completely over-the-top color.

The tips of the tree branches begin to feather out as the leaves come in, and the skeletal, bare-boned shape begins to take on weight right before your eyes.


Already the robins are out in force, carving up Father Hooper Field, inch by inch in search of spring blood worms. Red winged blackbirds are passing through along the Atlantic Flyway. The Red tailed hawk couple is in search of a new home. Maybe the female is expecting. And on and on it goes, each day offers more sunlight, and grows incrementally warmer.



2 thoughts on “spring

  1. Piet Hein wrote a poem featuring crocuses and spring. It’s something like this:
    We glibly talk of nature’s laws, but do things have a natural cause?
    Black earth turned to golden crocus is undiluted hocus-pocus.

    Keep up the interesting writing – and photos!

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