What do you love about spring? Leave a comment!
What do you love about spring? Leave a comment!
Now that spring’s finally arrived, I’ve been busy saying hello to green grass, new leaves on trees, and the rhubarb patch. All that socializing didn’t leave much time for cooking, so there’s no recipe this week.
Instead, enjoy this photo of something that looks good enough to eat: the magnolia blossom that waved to us this morning from outside our bedroom window.
I wondered if the flowers could be sugared, like violets, violas, and pansies. But an article about edible flowers says magnolia blossoms are best best pickled. Here’s an easy recipe from the UK for pickled magnolia blossoms, in case you have more time for cooking this week than I do.
If you don’t have time for cooking…or aren’t a fan of pickled flowers, enjoy the photo and enjoy spring. Life doesn’t get much prettier than this.
The weekend’s warm weather gave us
The oomph to clean the sun porch
So the wintered over plants could be moved there
To start adjusting to outdoor air.
But when the plants, previously scattered around the
Dining room, living room, and two bedrooms,
Were gathered in one place,
I wondered if the yard would be big enough to hold them all.
I stood on the porch wondering if I’d overdone
The fall repotting,
The late winter pruning,
And the early spring rerooting.
I wondered if I had too many plants.
Then Grandma Josie whispered in my ear,
Silly girl, you can never have too many plants.
Now, take this piece of sugar bread outside to eat,
So you don’t spill on the floor and attract ants.
My thoughts filled with plants,
Grandma Josie, sugar bread, and an ant-free home,
I walked indoors,
Grateful for spring.
Last spring and this spring couldn’t be more different, as a mason jar full of rooted geranium slips shows.
Last spring, I started rooting geraniums in March, which turned out to be too late for an early spring.
This spring, I started rooting them in February, which turned out to be too early for a late spring.
Last spring, warm weather hit in mid-March.
This spring, we’re still waiting for warm weather in mid-April.
Last spring, the geranium slips didn’t have enough roots on them when the weather was warm enough for potting them.
This spring, the geranium slips have so many roots, they may be hard to pull apart…if it ever gets warm enough to pot them.
Last spring was dry.
This spring’s been rainy.
Last spring ended with a drought.
Let’s hope this spring ends the drought.
These April mornings,
When my walks begin.
I need a pep talk to push my feet
Out the door and down the lane.
The grass is brown.
The tree branches grey,
The wind is cold,
The landscape bare.
Still the cardinal,
bright red with promise,
Sings words to warm my frozen, winter soul.
“It’s spring! It’s spring.”
What’s good this week where you live? Leave a comment.
Once March arrived, winter in these parts decided to dig in its white heels and stick around. Since the strategy is proving highly effective, this week’s top ten list extols the reasons to be happy for a late spring and make hay even when the sun don’t shine.
10. Extra winter makes northerners appreciate spring more when it finally does arrive.
9. We get more wear out of winter clothes.
8. A late, cold spring gives female rabbits headaches, and therefore has a dampening effect on the rabbit population.
7. The cold weather makes midwesterners more sympathetic toward Canadians.
6. Shivering gives spring sport athletes an Iron Man or Iron Woman aura.
5. Less time in the sun = less chance of skin cancer.
4. When the weather’s cold, teachers have an easier time keeping their students’ noses to the grindstone.
3. That first grilled meal of spring tastes better when it’s a long time coming.
2. The apple trees bloom later, so there’s less chance of a late frost nipping their buds.
1. A cold spring makes spring break trips to points south seem like a good investment.
What’s good about a late spring in your book? Leave a comment!
All week I have been hungry for spring,
Impatient with the snowy view outside our windows,
Eager for the spring thaw that brings freedom from our stuffy house,
Antsy to stretch my legs and walk miles outside in the fresh air.
This morning, eight deer graced the winter vista outside the living room window,
They pawed through the snow, finding little to eat.
One yearling fawn mouthed a tree branch and stood two-legged,
Then dropped on all fours, still wrestling with the woody, bitter morsel.
From the warmth of my living room, I watched the shivering animals
Wander across the yard, through the hedge, and across our driveway.
They looked for greener pastures, shorter trees, and tender twigs–
These winter-starved creatures, hungry for spring in ways I hope to never know.
This beautiful spring morning, I decided not to lug my camera along on my walk.
“I took it yesterday,” I reminded myself. “And what with stopping to take pictures of
our town’s freshly painted, newly filled swimming pool,
two goldfinches playing king-of-the-hill at a bird feeder,
Papa Gander, Mama Goose, and the goslings out for their morning constitutional,
and a bluejay in a tree, I wasted a good portion of the morning.
So no, I won’t take it along today.”
My decision seemed like the right one at first.
The swimming pool looked much the same as yesterday.
The bird feeder was abandoned.
The pond was still as glass and empty.
The bluejays were nowhere to be found.
But just past the pond, an unfamiliar chirping made my head lift.
Only a yard away, at eye level,
An indigo bunting perched in a sapling.
It glowed in a shaft of sunlight,
puffed its chest, and sang a clear and piercing song.
Yesterday, I took my camera.
But today I chose
Time over nature,
Time over beauty.
Time over a picture I’ve been waiting years to capture with the lens.
When will I learn that time hoarded is opportunity lost?
Spring is lovely along our Iowa gravel road.The rain washes away the dust kicked up by cars passing by, so the foliage is a deep and vibrant, soothing green. Every day is a feast for the senses.
The lingering scent of rain from a night time thunderstorm.
Toads betrayed by small movement in the grass.
Does hiding the shadow.
Cardinals singing in the treetops.
The stream rushing and gurgling under the bridge.
Goldfinches fighting for their turf in low bushes.
Each spring morning, I rush outside to greet new blossoms.
First the magnolias, the rhododendron, the red buds, and the daffodils.
Then the bleeding heart, the tulips and the lilacs.
Now the iris, the clematis, and the columbine.
Soon the peonies and the daisies.
I can’t bear the thought of missing the arrival of these friends. So most years, I stay home in May, determined to fully savor its beauty. But not this year. Not this week. Tomorrow, we pack the car and leave the beauty behind for a few days. I hate to miss the arrival of the peonies and daisies. But I know how much my daughter misses our gravel road after a year in Ohio while her husband finished grad school.
She misses the ancient silver maples in our yard,
The sight of leaves and grass,
The smell of trees and space and flowers,
The fairy ring where she played as a child,
The regularity of a gravel road each mile,
The greenness found only in Iowa,
Beloved by Iowa girls like my daughter and me.
She’s hungry for her home state, as I was during the seven years Hiram and I lived in South Dakota. So hungry, I could hardly bear it. So eager for a taste of home, I lived for my mother’s visits and feasted on the time she spent with us.
My mother left her roses,
And her yard work,
And her rhubarb,
And her invalid husband
To feed her daughter a taste of home.
So the peonies and daisies will have to bloom without us. Hiram and I are off to see our daughter and new son. Packing our car with Iowa air and comfort. Eager to share our feast with our hungry, Iowa-starved children. Bringing them the taste of our gravel road as my mother once brought a taste of home to me.