There were grouse drumming in sunny clearings, and a pair of red-tailed hawks hunted the clear blue bowl of sky over the Two Hundred Acre Wood - now and then they conversed as they soared in widening circles over our heads. We saw our first bluebird of the year yesterday, the first oriole, the first buttery male goldfinch.
The first garter snake of the season slithered languidly across the toe of my hiking boot as I walked along the trail to the beaver pond. A few minutes later, a lady woodcock launched herself from the grasses in my path like a tiny feathered rocket, disclosing a carefully concealed nest and four artfully dappled eggs.
And then there were the whites.... Winter's rolling snow dunes are grand in their way, but in all their breadth and vastness, they simply can't compare to the budding whites of springtime: carpets of trillium buds great and small, feathery clumps of Dutchman's breeches, communities of bloodroot nodding in the wind. Rather than returning home with an image or two yesterday, I came back with a whole memory card of captures and loved every single one - couldn't make up my mind what to keep.
In their wooded nooks and alcoves, springtime's delicate buds glow like candles, and how tenderly they are enfolded in guardian leaves as they open up slowly and and offer their hearts to the world. Really, does life get any better than this?
06 May, 2014
resting easy in springtime