Shadows

Monday was Groundhog's Day, and the weather here was balmy and beautiful. The woodchuck could certainly have seen his shadow, had he been up, but unlike those people in Punxsutawney, we chose to let him sleep.

There are plenty of other creatures around here who are awake already. The Flicker, wearing a heart on her back, cast a shadow, but she was more interested in the dogwood berries she was mining from the grass. Yum!

The day was sunny enough; the red squirrel would have noticed her shadow if she'd been looking in the right direction, but looking for nuts and watching her back were far more important.

It's a silly tradition, after all, one we've heard since grade school, that if a groundhog sees its shadow that day, there will be six more weeks of winter. But it speaks to our longing for spring, and the warmth and light that come with it. I have a bit of a conflict this year, because the only snow we've seen so far sprinkled over the ground like powdered sugar on a Weight Watcher's cake. And I love snow.

Snowdrops are blooming, and those small white blossoms are always a welcome sight, reminding us that no matter how long it takes for spring to get here, it will surely arrive. They call to mind the promise God made long ago:

As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest, 

cold and heat,

summer and winter,

day and night

will never cease.

Genesis 8:22

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

and Saturday's Critters

Promise

Outside yesterday, after a stretch of ice and bitter cold, a little green caught my eye.  

I moved some dead leaves, and there, sure enough, 

a few snowdrops were pushing out of the soil.

It reminded me that even in the deepest cold, spring is getting ready.

There's an ancient promise God made to Noah:

As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest,

cold and heat,

summer and winter,

day and night will never cease.

Genesis 8:22

The bluebirds seem to know this.  

They were in the birdbath, lifting their heads in praise with every swallow.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday
Little Things Thursday

Barley Gets His Bounce Back

There's something nice about late fall. 

The landscape, exhausted from the exuberance of spring, 

and the productivity of summer,

 has donned its tawny nightgown, and lounges on the couch.

 Oak leaves, despite their tatters, still cling tenaciously to the trees...

and mullein leaves, tired of supporting tall flower stalks,

crumple like wrung out dishrags on the ground.

Barley loves this time of year;

the cooler air puts a new spring in his feet,

and makes him eager to explore.

Winterberry trees brings a touch of color to the earth.

The birds eat the berries, 

posing as living Christmas cards, 

and remind us that it won't be fall for long.

"As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest,

cold and heat,

summer and winter,

day and night will never cease."

Genesis 8:22

Thanks to Leslie Nicole for the texture, Opaline.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Camera Critters

Ozark Spring Wildflowers

Toothwort

Johnny-Jump-Up

Bird's Foot Violet

Spring Beauty

After what seemed like a long winter, a wash of green is flowing over the landscape from the ground up. The first wildflowers showed up last month, the delicate Harbinger of Spring, then one Toothwart in its customary spot by the big oak tree on the forest edge. The next day it had disappeared, probably into the stomach of a hungry rabbit. 

After a few days of futile search, I found two more on the hillside above the pond, followed by Rue Anemone, and soon a whole patch of them were bobbing in the breeze. Now, just a month after the first sightings, new blossoms appear every day in rapid succession, their names as colorful as they are: Small Bluets, Johnny-Jump-Up, Bird's Foot Violet, Spring Beauty, Buttercups, Wild Sweet William, and the ubiquitous Dandelion.

Long ago, God made a promise to Noah, and He hasn't forgotten it:

"As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,

summer and winter, 

day and night

will never cease."

Genesis 8:22