Posts Tagged ‘spring’
roses by the road
A few years ago, we trimmed out the bushes all along our cabin road, to prevent our truck from getting scratched. During the trimming, my husband saved a small prickly rose bush near to the road edge. Each spring we watch for the pale pink of its blooms. Each fall, we count the red rose hips as we drive by. This year, the bush has grown as tall as me! Today, it was covered with pale pink roses and smelled so sweet!
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This is the swamp rose (Rosa palustris), a common wild rose in New Brunswick. You can recognize it by its pale pink flowers, its hooked spines, and its narrow stipules (winged sheaths at the bases of leaf stalks). In fall, it will have small round red rosehips.
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All my best,
Jane
mayflowers
In spring it is always fun to put all your senses together and search out the elusive mayflower, also known as trailing arbutus. Epigaea repens grows in the open woods where I live. You usually have to search for the trailing leaves and lift them to find the flowers.
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touch: the leaves are furry on the underside and smooth above; the petals of the flower are waxy.
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smell: the flowers are fragrant with a sweet, almost heady perfume.
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sight: the flowers are white to faintly pink; leaves are green with coppery brown surfaces and edges.
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Trailing Arbutus
(Epigaea repens L.)
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on the slope, new leaves
Trientalis, Gaultheria
Star-flower, Wintergreen,
vines of Partridge-berry creep
Maianthemum unfurls
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beneath the din, a melody
weeps Epigaea, evergreen
pressed to the hillside
leather armour, thickened leaves
weather-beaten, worn
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waxy bloom resists
subtle shadow
predator
unrelenting rain
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all my best,
staying at home,
Jane
ice
As I go over the many poems I have written over the years, I find a lot of poems about ice. Ice is very poem-worthy. It glitters and drips. It is cold and changes form. Icicles make great popsicles (if they are dripping from a clean surface). Ice can be a metaphor for emotion, life experience, change, danger, and so on.
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Today we had a high of 7 degrees C and all the snow and ice are melting. Not really sad to see them go this year.
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river ice
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builds in shallows
at the rim of river, incremental
embellishment to transparent sheets
of glass, ice envelopes winter
remnants, reeds and willows
thickness increased as frost
penetrates, sharp edges
cauterized by cold
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freezing rain
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trees, bare branches, wait
wood snaps in the stove
budgies peck at cuttle bone
pellets of rain, tossed
at the skylight
a second transparency
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bare twigs turn in wind
distribute their coating
in these last moments
before temperature turns
the snowpack on the picnic table
shrinks at the edges
shoves over, makes room
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branches gloss so gradually
candles dipped in a vat of wax
over and over, acquiring thickness
the sky, through the skylight
dimpled tile, rumpled mosaic
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rain stipples bark as narrative
appends to memory, pane here,
light there, layers of glass
cedar twigs turn downward
as fingers, ice builds
layers of skin
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All my best
(staying home!)
Jane
spring chorus – snipe
For the last two mornings, about 9:00, about one and a half hours after sunrise, I hear a song that is not a song. A winnowing ‘hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo,’ like a repeated, trailing set of high pitched notes, echoes in the grey woods. This is the mating display and call of a snipe. The amazing thing is, the call is not coming from the snipe’s throat, but from its feathers. As it flies, the air moving through the tail feathers makes the ‘call.’ To hear this sound, visit here.
The snipe is a bird of wetlands and marshes. It has a long bill and black, white and brown feathers. There is still lots of snow on the ground but this bird seems anxious to get on with the season.
The only other birds singing this morning were the crows and our neighbour’s rooster!
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butterfly
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butterfly
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scrap of paper
plucked from my hand
wind a tease
always one wing beat
beyond the finger tip
attempts to read
its delicate code
of dots
and dashes
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a yellow Post-it note
folded on the tower
of a blue sky cornflower
a tatter
a musical note
set to the panic
of butterfly flight
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a curtsy and away
across the field
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pursued by a butterfly net
and a killing jar
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Copyright Jane Spavold Tims 2018
signs of spring
Here are few of the signs of spring we saw on our drive last weekend:
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a skunk running through the apple orchard …
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pussy willows …
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muddy roads …
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beer cans and other returnables, released from their cover of snow …
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and a New Brunswick can-and-bottle collector out for walk …
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Happy Spring!
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
someone has a plan!
This time of year the winter ice on the rivers in New Brunswick is starting to break up. At the concrete bridge over the South Branch of the Rusagonis Stream, not far from where I live, there is a narrow band of melted ice.
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However, someone has plans for that part of the river. Have a look at the next two photos and guess who the ‘planners’ are.
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Beavers! Not ice scour since softer trees at the same level are not involved. Also, two of the trees have deep ‘v’s cut out on the bank side.
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We will be watching to see the next stage and the results of this plan. A beaver dam on the Rusagonis. Oh my!
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
robin in the rafters and in rain
If you are a bird, this is the time of year for nest building! An American robin has built a nest in the support beams of our deck. Years ago we had fun watching a robin build a nest and raise a brood in the rafters of our cabin.
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This year’s nest builder thinks the deck is his alone. Going in and out by way of the deck gets us a scolding. The robin puffs out its chest and tries to lure the marauders away. I am afraid to go near to get a photo since I might disturb eggs or chicks, so a photo of a robin’s nest in winter will have to do!
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Sudden Storm
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dusk
half darkness
the moon rises
a sliver from full
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spaces yawn
liquid robin song
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aspen, motionless
poplar tremble
a nuthatch rustles in the leaves
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wind chime plays a scale
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cloud stretched across the moon
a hand pressed to the treetops
leaves turn to the silver underside
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warm splashes
polka-dot the patio
puny dust storms on the step
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streamers stripe the glass
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curtains of rain
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Copyright Jane Tims 2017
planting trees at our cabin
Last weekend, we planted about 30 Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris L.) seedlings at our cabin property. There are lots of trees there already, but we are thinking ahead.
We bought our seedlings at the Irving Tree Nursery in Sussex, $.50 each. We planted them with the help of a metal dibble stick made especially for planting young trees.
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Here is a photo of our cabin, taken from far away, on the other side of the lake in early spring. Lots of tree there already, you say? You can never have too many trees!
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We still have more trees to plant, including some Red Pine and Eastern White Cedar. Great time spent outside where the black flies are never very bad!
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Copyright Jane Tims 2017
morning birdcalls – Northern Parula
After a hot day, a cool night. This morning, our windows are wide open and a Northern Parula is busy in our grey woods.
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His distinctive call – ‘whirrrr-zip’ – has an upward lilt at the end. I can catch only a glimpse of him, certainly not long enough for a photograph.
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The Northern Parula is a small warbler with a bright orangy-yellow upper breast. He builds his nests of Old Man’s Beard lichen (Usnea spp.) – there is lots of this lichen hanging from the trees in our grey woods, so of course he is here! This is a watercolour I did of him last year.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2017
