On a gray morning, rain drips off and on from half-hearted clouds.
Outside, dogwood bracts unfold to reveal tiny emerald treasures that will soon open, attracting a menagerie of pollinators.
The first blush of deep pink has appeared on red bud trees, and it looks, for the first time in years,
like they might bloom simultaneously with the dogwoods.
Our icy winter compressed the first side of spring, and the results could be glorious.
Male goldfinches have discarded their drab winter garb and donned bright yellow down jackets for the season...
and male bluebirds have pulled on their brightest little t-shirts.
All of that said, most of the trees are still bare except for a few oaks like the one near the house,
which stubbornly hoards last year's dead leaves.
They'll discard their clutter any day now, and I'll finally be able to clean out the flower bed for good.
I can't remember when we've waited this long to see toothwart and rue anemone,
but now that they've appeared, other wildflowers are following in swift succession.
A brief look around yesterday revealed Johnny-jump-ups,
bluets, spring beauties, pussy toes, and dandelions.
Verbena covers the lake shores, and henbit, the poor gardener's ground cover, decorates the town.
Service berry trees are in full flower...
...and wild plum blossoms exude their intoxicating fragrance.
Now the rain has stopped, and cloud curtains, blown in the breeze, part to reveal the sun.
The sweet anticipation seems inbred
Of clover underfoot, the hum of bees
Of new leaves growing overhead
And poppies swaying in the breeze
But in the meantime...
Life is pretty good.
