Blog #5  WHAT NATURE KNOWS

As I opened the door this morning to let the cats out I checked the temperature.  Sixty degrees.  How can it seem so cold and yet be so warm?  It is the sound of the rain pattering on the remainder of the leaves in the back yard.  I lookout at pools of water in the depressions of my yard and see the raindrops forming rings.  The cat looks up at me as if to say you can turn off the water now.  Really, I would if I could. I love to see the sunshine in the morning. It can rain in the afternoon if it wants, but sunshine in the morning sets the day up right.

There are so many different sounds in the yard now, I don't recognize who's singing what but I do know that the caws of the crows and the honks from the geese have been joined by a chorus of other birds that are glad to be home in my backyard.  They whistle and tweet and I do my best to imitate their sounds.  They thrill me by answering my pitiful attempts at replication and we play for a while as I try to locate the source of my echoes.

The squirrels have been playing and bickering in the trees.  I am sure they are somewhat dismayed to find that some of their bridges from one tree to the next have been taken down.  Beautiful ash trees that had many years before them had it not been for the emerald ash borer and their wraith of destruction.  The squirrels seem a little disgruntled and it makes me sad as well.

But the most distinctive thing in the yard to date is the little green teeth that are biting their way to the surface of the black mulch.   Iris have very pointy leaves and they look fierce against the foundation of the house.  They will not be denied the sunshine any longer. They are willful plants that claw their way to the surface, strong and thick and vibrant.  The daffodils have struggled to the surface and one tiny soul has even bloomed -- a yellow star mashed into the mud by the dog and or the torrential rains.  The tulips look a a little lost, lots of soft green cup shaped leaves but scattered and lonely, their friends and companions eaten throughout the winter by skunks or raccoons.  They are the survivors of the bucketfuls I planted and they seem to wonder where their friends are.

The biggest success is the hyacinths.  I tried to cover a part of a hill side with them one year and although they came up faithfully I'm afraid I would have needed about ten thousand bulbs to do what I had envisioned for the area, so I transplanted them in the fall. They are coming up along the top of a retaining wall and look like promising flirty ballerinas ready to take the stage.

There are twigs all over the garden.  Trees that have been mutilated by the deer. Weeds are also finding their footing on the sprawl of the yard.  There is much work to be done but the plants know. Winter is winding its way downhill.  Spring is scaling the hillside and holding on for all it is worth. It gives one pause and a reason to smile as the rain pelts down and the dog looks to me for his walk.