spring

In the quiet moments of spring

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I’ve been patiently waiting for the arrival of spring. It doesn’t come with fanfare or trumpets announcing its arrival. It comes gradually, and often in starts and stops. The ice went out on the lake awhile ago but the lake temperature is warming slowly. The grass is eventually becoming green – that “new” green that almost shines and glows in the sunlight. It’s the green that hasn’t yet been dried out with the heat of a summer sun.

The loons have returned to the lake and have joined the chorus of Canada geese, ducks, and even the swans and sandhill cranes. The welcome cacophony of calls often stops me in my tracks. The wood ducks are back too, floating by the shoreline, searching for that “perfect” house to lay their eggs and eventually raise their young.

And slowly the trees are getting their new-spring buds. There are a few oak leaves that cling to the branches – they’ve held on throughout last fall and winter and provide a clatter when the spring wind rustles through. But they’ll be replaced soon with a burst of new leaves that will provide the much-appreciated shade from the summer sun’s heat. Until then we watch the buds get bigger, soaking up warmer temperatures and sunshine.

Two nights ago I watched as the setting sun raked its shadow across the opposite shoreline. The golden light gradually diminished into dark, the winds stilled and the lake surface quieted to glass. And then a near-full moon rose above the trees and slowly spread its reflection in the calm lake, reminding me that spring has arrived. Get out and enjoy it – this “shortest” season we have.

Outside – Inside

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The outside world has not transitioned to spring. We’ve had snow, sleet, rain, and a thick ice that covered everything — the trees, the walkways, the electrical lines, the fences, and the barbed wire. Suspended in the cold air, the ice drips froze in place. It was eerie to see, and even stranger to watch as the temperatures rose. The wind picked up and the ice began falling from the electrical lines and trees. As I parked my car, it was like a hail storm with bits of ice raining down from the overhead tree branches.

But there’s a respite with being indoors, especially at the McNeely Conservatory in Saint Paul. Spring is at its finest without the cold, the snow, or the ice. Here it’s a feast of color with flowers and plants that make us yearn for the warmth of spring. And there’s a scent of green and color that can’t be denied. Poppies, tulips, ranunculus – all blooming without any care to the outside cold. A truly wonderful escape from our long winter season.

The pendulum season

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We are in the pendulum season – where it is spring one day and winter the next, in which ever direction the pendulum settles. We’ve enjoyed a false spring of moderate temperatures where everyone had a smile on their face. Then quickly winter came again, with it’s surprise snow, cold winds, and freezing temperatures. The other morning we woke to a fresh coating of two inches of snow. It had rained before turning to snow, allowing the wet snow to collect on the branches and trees.

It’s a slow and unreliable process to change from winter to spring, and all we can do is swing with the pendulum. We keep winter coats, hats and boots handy, along with a light spring jacket. I have seen some open water, especially in the creeks where there’s a current flowing. And with that we’ve had mallards and swans that have come back into the area.

Eventually the pendulum will swing all the way forward to spring and we will put our cold and snow behind us. We’ll look to greening grass and leaves on the trees – it can’t be much further ahead!

A softness to peony season

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Spring seems to have been our shortest season this year. As soon as the snow went out of the landscape, green appeared. And yet now we’re already on the other side of spring into summer. We’ve had days of record-setting heat and humidity in the past week – a true reminder that June weather can bring just about anything.

The peonies in my garden burst into a riotous bloom a few weeks ago. There were shades of pink, red, magenta, maroon, white, and even a lovely coral. This is the one time of year I wish for no rain. May and June rains tend to be downpours, with raindrops falling hard through the sky and pelting any flower petals. This year we missed some of the heaviest rain, and the peony blossoms remained and came into full bloom.

I’m lucky to have some plants that are from my mother and father’s yard in Kansas. They’ve adjusted to our Minnesota weather, and I especially enjoy seeing those particular peonies come into bloom. My parents referred to peonies as “memorial flowers.” In Kansas they hoped the peonies would bloom right before Memorial Day so they could pick arm loads of them to place on the grave sites of family and relatives. I’ve since learned that tradition came after the Civil War when peonies were placed on the graves of fallen soldiers on what was then called Decoration Day. It was (and is still) a small gesture, but the remembrance and commitment is so much larger.

Awash in spring color

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There is a lovely palette of colors in our landscape now. The rains and the sunshine have encouraged all the plants and flowers to burst into bloom and fullness. And with light winds the colors seem to dance before our eyes.

My garden is filled with this lovely orange and yellow columbine. The first plant was a transplant from my mother-in-law’s garden near their lake house. The columbine have multiplied and spread, and now stand tall and full in my garden. Behind is a stand of large lupines. These too were a gift from a dear friend who shared the lupine seeds. It took a couple of years for the plants to produce their lovely blue and purple blooms, but quickly they have spread and provide a lovely backdrop to the columbine.

A few days ago I awoke to an early, cool morning with the promise of a warm day ahead. Gradually the sun cleared the house and it’s brightness flooded the gardens. The birds chirped, a soft wind started to rustle, and I enjoyed a magical few hours surrounded by color and song in the garden.