Signs of Spring

Signs of Spring

When you left for your walk this morning, what did you see? Did you notice the crocus blooming in your yard? There were only 2, but they were open, many more ready to go. Did you see the daffodils and tulips peeking through the ground? Did you see the skunk lying dead next to the road or only smell him after you passed?

Why did you choose to walk a different way from your normal route around the lake? Was it to see the coyote walking across the field with breakfast in his mouth, then put it down to munch? Did you notice the red wing blackbird call to, or perhaps for, a mate? An answer coming from a ways away, where is she? Did you even see him in the cattails? Did you notice the Canada goose sitting on the beaver mound, keeping watch, his spouse behind the mound in the water?

Did you see the trees topped by mother nature this winter, the entire top standing up next to the tree? Did you notice the pair of ducks, not on the lake with the rest, but in the standing water next to the path? Is she already pregnant or did they just want some alone time, away from the pack? Did you stop to watch the geese take off from the lake right over your head? Can you hear the wings beating, that plastic swishy noise of wind through their feathers as they rise? Or were you plugged in, turned on, tuned out?

Were you chatting with your friend and didn't notice the sparrow scamper in front of you seeking cover in the brush not yet come to life? Your dog did. Were you looking out over the lake, at the mountains shining in the morning sun when the coyote walked by, less than 10 feet away? Did you feel his presence, look him in the eye and say hello? Did you notice the broken tree branch that looked like an ostrich head and neck sticking up out of the tree? There, can you see the start of a new nest in the still-barren trees? Look at the bright green under the snow crushed foliage.

Was your walk just another duty in your day or is your exercise to see with both eyes, listen with both ears, to move among nature, another creature? Did you see the single girl, followed by 2 boys, ducks on the water looking for a wife? Or were you getting your exercise out of the way before the rest of your day, thinking of what was next, not what was now? Look out over the lake and notice the ducks swimming in pairs, teens at the prom? Was this an “exercise” in futility to notice those around you, all creatures great and small? Yes, you nod and say hello to the two legged creatures walking past you, but do you acknowledge all the others? Do you even see them, hear them? Courting, ready to nest, starting to produce new life?

Today it's warm, but snow is coming tomorrow. You can see the clouds over the mountains, the wind will blow this afternoon, pushing the moisture ever closer. There's still snow on the ground, but bulbs are poking out in the bare spaces; sure signs that spring is really on its way.

Will you notice the signs of spring?

Gardens and Relationships

Gardens and Relationships

Relationships are little gardens, surprising us with new vegetation and keeping us rooted with the old. All of you loved ones are a part of each day here, in this strange, new world. You may not know it, but you keep life growing in the little gardens I’m planting.

This quote is from my niece in her blog today from Afghanistan. It makes me think of the relationships of gardens and the gardens of relationships.

Gardens, like relationships, can be neglected for a while, but eventually need some nurturing. Gardens can be scraped, overhauled, redone, added to, substracted from, paved over and new ones made. But, really, once a garden is there, it only takes a little time, water and love to keep it growing. The bones will show in good weather and in bad, all the seasons of the garden. The flowers will bloom in the spring and summer and fade in the fall, but bring great joy when they are here. The fruits and vegetables and the tender perennials must be given a little more attention, but even many of those will come back on their own in good rich soil.

The gardens of our lives are much the same. Some plants we grow weary of; maybe they take too much water in an arid climate, too much attention to keep them pretty or they spread their seeds all over everywhere and become obnoxious. Sometimes we just have to take out plants that are too much work or no longer interest us with their marginal blooms. Some trees are just too fragile to make it in a harsh climate, breaking in strong winds. And sometimes the plants just get old and die, having outlived their usefulness or no longer had the energy to bloom. So even the best friends in a garden, the ones you always counted on to shade you or hold you up or bloom continuously, will disappear. Sometimes they go to sleep in the winter after a magnificent fall display and just don’t bud out in spring, dieing in their sleep.

Not much in a garden can be neglected forever and expected to live, so we must tend our gardens with care. Give them nourishment and water, treat them special, give them haircuts when they begin to look scraggly, treat their diseases and knock out their pests. We can just blanket spray some inorganic compound on everything and hope that most plants survive it, or we can get to know each plant, tree, shrub. We can treat each flora differently, according to its needs and wants, using the least harsh compounds to make that species flourish. We can see them again in 1 or 2 years and say “Ah yes, I remember you and how much joy you give me”. There’s always the pretty, showy new thing to grab our eye, but the plants we’ve kept healthy will be there when those new ones have faded and must be replaced.

Gardens are relationships and relationships are gardens. Both must be tended and cared for to bloom and flourish. So as you go through the rest of this winter, look outside and see what you have in your garden and if it needs a little work. And look inside to see what shape that garden in your soul is taking. A little TLC goes a long way in either garden. Happy gardening!

Snow

MMMmmmm, Snow. 17” and still falling seems a little excessive, but it’s snow – and wet snow mostly at that. Wet snow means moisture. Mmm, moisture. I was starting to feel a little scaly so I can’t imagine what the plants felt like, especially the trees and shrubs. It might not mean much to parts of the world, but at least most in this country are starting to understand what we in the West have been dealing with forever. January is usually our driest month and it has certainly proven the fact this year. I talked to a client yesterday who said she hadn’t watered her trees and shrubs because it had snowed. What she failed to grasp was that snow held almost no moisture and that it had been 60+ degrees with desiccating winds off and on all through the month. Those winds suck the moisture – and the life – right out of the branches and needles of every living thing – including me! I’m glad for a little humidity in the air (yes, my Southern family and friends will chide me about this – come on down, we have plenty of humidity for you!) and moisture on the ground. It plumps up those cells and provides a big drink, for both plants and humans. And while I’m sure the native wildlife were hunkered down yesterday, they, too, will benefit and enjoy a little (or a lot) of snow today.

This snow is cleansing and quiet, hushing everyone for a day. It was strong and fierce and forced closure of most schools and businesses even before it really started. But there is a reflective quality to a snow like this, both analytical and luminescent. It shone in the moonlight last night; you could see the ground and even the big flakes falling in the darkness. It was beautiful. And here in my little haven that only feels like wilderness, it brought thoughts of cowboys and Indians, prairie life, fires in the hearth, staying put for a day, mending and quilting because the outside chores would be put off for a few days. Today, it’s back to business. Shovel the drives and the walks for us and our neighbor, clean up, get going, do. This crazied, harried life we live, we choose; how often can we just sit by the fire and let the world go by – only when we are forced? Already the birds and squirrels are flitting about. Can’t stay still; can’t reflect; can’t just be.

I am learning to be still, to listen and then I am given gifts, like 17 inches of snow and still falling.