Spring is truly a miracle in these parts. It’s the best drug there is. That people aren’t walking around in a stupor from flower to flower amazes me. Is it just in our northeastern states where the spring bounty feels so shocking? Does the dismal end of winter predicate it? Sometimes we have a long cold spring that creeps along–that might not be so shocking as it is painful. Other times we have a spring that pops out of nowhere and barely gives you a chance to truly appreciate it. A spring that flashes like a bank of golden stage lights, blinding you in the process. You are left dazed a week later, wondering where all that tender bright green went. You stand under a tree and it feels dark somehow, because suddenly there are leaves and with leaves there is shade and shadows. This is the kind of spring that’s here right now.
Yesterday, I walked around just in my yard, which is about three acres, and came across a stunning number of flowers. Just off the bat there is muscari, dandelion, vinca, daffodil, both purple and white violets, and two colors of squill. The forsythia are like yellow clouds everywhere. The almost garish coral pink of the flowering quince. And all hail the trout lily–with its spotted leaves and curled back petals. I mean seriously!
Then you look up at the sky, which is a remarkable blue. No clouds. Warm sun on your face. And there are thousands of blossoms up in the trees. Pale golden-yellow sugar maple blossoms like the most ornate tassels. And box elder blossoms, which are similar but even flashier with leaves poking out already. In the middle, below, are some plum blossoms which still haven’t yet opened. But they are just about to. Meanwhile, the cherry blossoms have gotten to the end of their show and are already dropping petals like pale pink snow on the ground and the stream below, that fall and float off in the gentle current.
Out and about there is even more. The magnolia trees are full of their lush pink and cream blossoms, and sometimes you’ll see a white star magnolia. I pray we don’t get a frost that kills them all. Along suburban roads there are so many ornamental trees in bloom–deep pink crabapples and pale pink weeping cherries. The woods are dotted with sprays of white with an undertone of pink: the serviceberries are in full bloom. I think my favorite part of the tree bloom is how the mountain looks in the distance, painted with chartreuse, yellow, light gold and reds. Your eyes feel so fulfilled taking it all in.
On a short walk in the nearby woods, the Dutchmen’s breeches are blooming their funny little upside down pants-like blooms. Or bloomers? And the red bud tree is ready to go. So many flowers, and I really didn’t even get to them all. There’s been hepatica and pussy toes, hairy bittercress, wood anemones, henbit, purple dead nettle, bloodroot, and the very first scarlet trillium. It’s overwhelming in the very best way, and it’s filling me completely with a desire to live. Thank goodness for flowers.