Spring Rites

The bluebird couple were busily in and out of their condo in my back yard before sunrise this morning despite the 31-degree temperature. Nest building.

We mark spring--many us, at least--not so much by the sun but by scheduled events. My young neighbors are out on spring break. I've seen references to proms via Facebook posts. 

Can graduation be too far behind? Events that long signified spring and an ending of sorts during my classroom career. Now merely anecdotes belonging to others.

I can't help think of students in Ukraine. Russia, too.

Spring as awakening, haphazardly, relentlessly, often splendidly.

Of my three crabapples, the smallest the last two years bloomed first, but last this year. Go figure.

The dwarf peach trees normally bloom within the same week, but not this year. Two weeks apart.

For me, it's not so much the pruning and transplanting launching spring--chores that yield results in the summer, true enough. No, for me, it's seeding the vegetable beds. Allowing the last frost to pass--tomorrow morning perhaps--the soil to warm, the daily highs to climb.

This spring a 12-year-old shot and killed a fellow 12-year-old at an area middle school. It will be that day forever cruelest for parents, families, friends. Teachers, too.

I believe both the resident Red-shouldered hawk and the Great Blue heron are each ready to nest again this season. The geese certainly are. Quite a nursery the past five springs. 

Next year, too? I could not say.

Spring break, daffodils, prom, dogwoods, goslings, maples.... Expectations, fulfilled and unfulfilled. Spring.

Life. Death. Those too.

Oh, by the way, the redbuds seemed especially showy this year. 

#blog #spring #nature