THE RITES OF SPRING

Good morning! The sun is shining on a melting blanket of snow. Yesterday, all day, it snowed as if it were December. I think of it as the annual “Gateway Snow” to spring. Every year around this time it happens. I take it as permission that I can now sterilize and fill the hummingbird feeders and start cleaning up the porch. We are technically in “Mud season” and people complain, but I love it. As I’ve said before, there is no season I don’t love in Vermont.

The vultures, fly catchers and bluebirds are back, bears have been spotted, and the snow buntings have headed back north. I hear the woodpeckers hammering away in the distance and feel joy at their return. Male birds are drunk on mating testosterone and are exhibiting their annual bizarre behavior which usually looks like wanting to commit suicide by flying straight at your vehicle; barred owls, turkeys and grouse, all with the largeness to do extreme damage to themselves and your car.

In the falling snow I watched a male bluebird pick small seeds out of a stalwart, dried out panicle (a word I just learned!) of sumac flowers. People here consider sumac a weed and rip it out. It bums me out because it’s native and necessary! Not to mention, have you ever had sumac lemonade??? Divine. Sumac tastes and bit like a less sweet tamarind of the north.

The beavers are very busy and have taken down pretty much all of the young aspen. I don’t mind. The way they have transformed the pond habitat has been miraculous. They kept the drinking water in supply for our local wildlife during the drought last year and the plant life and animal life have expanded like crazy. The other day I saw two of the three beavers chasing a pair of hooded mergansers away from the entrance of their lodge. The birds we not offended, and found a log to rest on a little ways away. I learned from the link above that the Cree refer to the hooded merganser as “The Beaver Bird,” which makes perfect sense, as beavers steward an environment that supplies the merganser with fish and frogs they like. In my 20 years here I have never seen a hooded merganser on the pond, and I was mesmerized. What an incredible looking creature, as exotic as any bird from South America. I look forward to seeing how many beaver kits are in the litter this year. I’ll keep you posted.

The singing frogs have exploded into our lives with gusto and their singing at night has me sleeping with the window open no matter how cold it gets. On rainy nights you have to be careful as you drive along the roads because they are hopping across en masse on their way to find a place to lay their eggs. There are kind folks here who organize volunteers to help squire them (and newts!) across the pavement to safety. It’s one of our sweeter customs.

The brown, smashed plant life of last year, looking like a 20’s Marcel Wave hairdo contoured to the terrain, has very quickly begun to give way to the ravenous green grass. People are priming their mowers. I imagine what the back fields will look like in three months and I so look forward to the milkweed fields in bloom again. The smell is perhaps the finest thing I have ever smelled.

My neighbors are hard at work lambing and can only leave the farm by grace of the “Lamb Cam” which has its lens fixed on the expectant mamas, whose tummies are so big they bulge out sideways like a milk tanker attached to a semi truck. They can have a many as three lambs and they sometimes need a little help and comfort. Seeing a sheep give birth (or any animal) is really breath taking. I am so grateful they let me come and witness it.

I stop myself to take a snapshot of this moment as it will change so fast, and the landscape will show me new and continuous wonders. Keep your noticing eyes open and curious and the human world of strife will hurt a little less. Let the noticing remind you that the cruelty will not stand. You are so loved. XO

Sun on the spring snow.