Eric’s been journaling during our adjustment to these rapidly changing times, so I’ve created a page on The Way to the Clearing for him to post his thoughts.
(For Patti’s blog posts, visit the homepage or click here.)
The sun shone brightly through the trees this morning making long, patient shadows. After warming the house while having coffee, we let the fire in the woodstove die. The day was plenty warm without it.
Always a good sign: The daffodils are pushing green up through the leaf litter. I guess being so close to the warming earth, the daffodils—or are they jonquils?—don’t care about the sub-freezing temperatures predicted for tonight and tomorrow night and snow later in the week. Not understanding the difference between a daffodil and a jonquil, I just checked. A jonquil is a Mediterranean daffodil; a daffodil is also known as a narcissus. Behold the roll-off-the-tongue cadence of the Latin name for jonquil: Narcissus jonquillia. And what better proof the producers have had just about enough of winter dormancy than the lawn and flower beds punctuated with the white and yellow flowers of the genus Narcissus? It’s near.
I pruned the grapes and black raspberries planted last spring. Although not a lot to prune, it’s important to get these initial, training cuts right, especially the grapes, although, really, I don’t know what I’m doing. The trellis wires aren’t up yet (getting the two end-posts anchored was one of the last things I did last fall before winter set in), but I will do so soon. Have I mentioned that every time I walk by the grapes I envision lush, cascading vines full of purple, plump clusters? Future’s inspiration.
How odd the pond always melts first in the northwest quadrant? The ice is thick and the snow deep on the eastern side of the pond, which receives all the warmth of the afternoon sun. Paradoxical. It must be the springs that feed the pond enter where the pond is melting.
I was working in the backyard the first spring we were here and the pond was approximately in the state of thaw it is currently. Hearing a chatter of quacking from the direction of the pond, I asked Patti, who was in a positioned to see, if a bunch of ducks had alighted. There was not a single duck in the small area of exposed water.
Come to find out: Wood frogs.
In these parts, wood frogs are the first to began mating in the spring. Hundreds of them descend on our pond when it is still three-quarters covered in ice. Their mating call sounds like a quacking duck. According to the National Wildlife Federation they are the only frog to live above the Arctic Circle. In the winter, they freeze. Literally. They stop breathing and their hearts stop. In the height of their mating ritual, they get up on the ice and flop and slip about, crazy with the prospects of spring and procreation.
Just before noon today, as I walked past the grapes, a movement to my left caught my eye: A wood frog hopping it’s way to the pond. I predict it will be a big quack-a-thon there within a few of days.
Spring is definitely coming.