The Slow Creep of Spring

Spring is steadily seeping onto our land. Yesterday morning after Mass, when I was in the midst of making brunch, I sighted a bluebird perched on a tree outside the window. When it flew, the brilliant streak of indigo glinting in the sun was so stunning that I froze in place transfixed by the that split-second splash of bedazzling color. 

Shortly thereafter, as we sat in the dining room, a flock of goldfinches, still cloaked in their winter plumage, arrived at the thistle feeder my mother-in-law gave us. Although their winter-wear could not compete with the bluebird's finery, their cheerful twittering made up for what they lacked in color. It added a sparkle of sound that punctuated the soundtrack to my work that day. 

Much of my work yesterday consisted of burning brush and clearing (again!) While doing so, I spied my third robin in the past week. I also stumbled upon two different flowers in bloom. On the left is a clump of snowdrops. Several clumps of them are in an area that is predominantly filled with naturalized daffodils.











And near the front walk, under some trees, I found some lovely, petite anemone pavonina blanda. They are only about 3 inches tall, and are easy to miss if you don't have an eye for the minute. 

They are quite lovely. 

When fully opened they look like this:

 But when they are just opening 

they look like this: 

Luckily it was peaceful when I was out yesterday. The occasional distant hum of my husband's small chainsaw drifted up from below the dam now and then,

but mostly it was birdsong,

the crackle of fire,

and the gentle whoosh 

of wind in the pines

that met my ears.

I reveled in a sliver of moon in a silver-blue sky,

the azure waters of the lake 

glimmering through the trees,

and the happy laughter 

and chatter 

of my three youngest 

as they clamored about 

the board fence near me.

The loggers rested on Sunday, but they were back at it today. They aren't clear-cutting, thankfully, just selective-logging. But they started at 7:30 this morning and didn't finish until 7 tonight.  Their chainsaws, grapple skidders, buck saws, and log trucks overwhelmed the usually peaceful sounds that prevail here. 

There was a disturbing, bone crunching din as the branches cracked and broke during the fall of each tree. Then there was the final whumping thud as it struck earth, the continuous whining saw, the steady roaring of the grapple skidder's engine, not to mention the resounding thunks when the finished logs where dropped onto the waiting truck.

But despite the bothersome logging,
I saw a robin again today,
the finches continued to adorn my feeder,
my children laughed just as much, 

and there's another flower
to add to my list of sightings: 

purple crocus.

There are many other crocus plants that I have spied out too. There are some hyacinths as well, I think. And soon the daffodils will be erupting in little fountains of color. Some of the early varieties are quite close to blooming already.

What treasure will tomorrow hold?