spring, or something like it

There is some sort of weed in bloom in the lawn, all over the place. It's a tiny, prostrate bronze broad-leaf thing, with an erect spike of wee, vaguely pink/purple flowers. I think it's pretty, but it's very hard to notice. The maple buds, on the other hand, are getting gaudy and fat, and last year's growth on the sweetgum and tupelo is greening up, too. I looked long and hard to find the shining sumac yesterday, but I'm afraid it's been lost to the grape and greenbriar.

The bee balm has spread and is poking its head out of the ground, perhaps about a half inch, and yet the fragrance is strong and sweet. I scattered thousands of milkweed seeds nearby, out behind the solar panels, and can only hope the snow helped them find their way into the soil. Butterflies should be pretty happy here this summer. I saw two crows flying over the labs to the south east, both with huge long twigs in their beaks. A pair of titmice were courting in the gutters right outside the bedroom window this morning. Yesterday, I'm pretty certain I saw a pair of waxwings in the woods near the stands of cedar out back. The Carolina wrens have been pestering the terra cotta birdhouse out front all winter, and I'm curious to see whether they'll build their nest out front this year, or find a place in the back like last year.

I found the root of the grape vine and cannot fathom why I haven't noticed it before. It's right under the holly whose topmost growth is inundated with vines. Should have been obvious to me, huh? Well, I'm not doing anything about that now. Nor will I trim back the crossed branches on the crab apple right outside the kitchen door. I may, or may not, remove the flags I posted near the wintergreen I found in the north woods. Maybe whoever buys this house will enjoy having a little mystery on their hands.

In Master Gardening class on Tuesday, the instructor passed around a clod of turf dug up from right outside the Ag center's back door. We identified some type of Kentucky blue grass, as well as a perennial rye and what appeared to be a hard fescue. I held on to that sample for a long time, my face deep in the container, looking at the small spots of some fungus attacking the grass leaves, but I couldn't have cared less about the grass. The soil clinging to the plant's roots catpivated me - that unmistakable fragrance of sweet, delicious earth. I breathed it in, deeply and repeatedly, until the person sitting to my left got impatient waiting to see the plants.

I suspect the earth outside my office window here at druid labs smells the same way, though perhaps a bit drier since it's much sandier. I want to go out there and trace the progression of the season; look to see where sap is rising, where shoots are emerging, and where life will have its way once again, in spite of the increasing white-tail population. I don't mind that the cedars out front are stripped bare to a height of about five feet. As much as the new growth, that's a sign of life around here. Even the strip of skunk fur I found in the south woods a couple of years ago - that speaks to me of success in the hunt. And don't get me started on the mushrooms. This place teems with life, vibrant, colorful, and unrelenting.