Turning the Corner At Last

After days of snow and rain, the sun set golden last night beneath the last of the storm clouds clearing out from the west.

Sunrise this morning found our sky deeply blue and nearly clear, frosty morning air crackling with fresh energy and promise.

The sun called both of us out of doors to see what changes have come to the garden. 

Ground spongy from days of rain, with water still puddling in low spots; the Earth shifts and oozes with every step.  Each step must be carefully placed to avoid slipping on the uneven ground.

Today brings that magical moment when we first begin to feel winter slipping away into earliest spring.  The sun is brighter than when we saw it last, and is lingering later into the evening.  We have turned the corner at last.

In the afternoon I gathered hat and coat, scarf and camera to make the walk down to the Creek, in search of evidence. 

I went looking for any sign that we have, in fact, begun the unfolding of spring, here in Williamsburg.  I wanted proof that winter’s hard shell has begun to crack, allowing new bits of living green to unfold.

The first new green always comes to the mosses, plump now with moisture and responding to the sun.

They green as they thaw, and stretch out luxuriantly.  The moss, and brave blades of green bulb foliage determinedly poking out of the frozen mud animate winter’s muddy ground.

Even bits of fern, and the first bits of weed populating the mulched beds of daffodils, gave ample proof of winter melting away for another year.

Snowdrops, early Crocus, and one radiant patch of blooming Daffodils in a neighbor’s yard cheered me on my way.

The Hellebores are thickening in their beds with new growth, buds nearly ready to open their petals to early bees who might wander by.

Spring is returning to the garden; slowly, now at the beginning, but still an irresistible force of new unfoldings and fresh starts.

It was the perfect day to get out into the sunshine and fill our lungs with the first breath of spring.

A perfect day for our friend to celebrate her birthday, and a perfect day for winter’s cloak to pull away, even for a moment, as sun and warmth called us back out into the garden.

All photos by Woodland Gnome 2014

in time of daffodils (who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why, remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so (forgetting seem)

in time of roses (who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if, remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek (forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me, remember me
 

e. e. cummings

About woodlandgnome

Lifelong teacher and gardener.

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