Shivering buds, still black, tightly wrapped in their winter overcoats, are slowly undergoing a magic transformation, gathering fresh new colors that tint the cypress tassels and spread a scarlet blush to awakening maple, mingled with the snow-white blossom of plum and dogwood, combining their magic to brighten the lingering shadows of awakening woodlands.
Our roadsides, fields and pastures have lifted from raw muddy earth to spread a carpet of wild vetch with its minuscule flowers, an endless spreading of royal purple underfoot, while the docile, but ever dependable daffodils and narcissus dip their blossoms in meek obedience to the wild west wind that brings spring riding on its wings.
The rising west wind reminds us of the old wives tale that more severe storms take place during the weeks surrounding the passage of the spring and autumnal equinox’s. Studies of natural events over the past half century discount such a connection. Linking the equinox to storms is smilar to predicting future weather events by measuring the width of a caterpillar’s stripes or a groundhog seeing his shadow.
As the sun edges a little more toward the south its rays strike the earth more directly with the passage of each awakening day, the temperatures follow, averaging about half a degree, with time for another minute of sun exposure and birdsong, nature’s gifts, to enjoy as we see fit, including mucking about in muddy lawn and garden seeking to encourage nature’s magic.
Not until the rich loud liquid and contented chirruping serenade, described as a “too-too tweep” song of purple martins, can we safely announce that spring is truly a reality and there is no time to waste, for too soon the blossom of spring fades and the summer sun will be singing a different song