Blueberry blossom cluster
These spring days are long, but short as far as crossing off items on the daily task list. I wonder, quite frankly, if this is the reason that spring isn’t my favorite time of year. It used to be, when I lived in Minnesota. I loved–and lived for–the first loud blooms of the season: I’d take a pair of garden clippers with me when walking the dog at night to “liberate” some neighbor’s blossoms of the alley-overhanging shrubs and trees. So many unappreciated blossoms! And every morning, that pilfered bouquet would shed onto the top of the polished dining room table, clouding the finish with that pollen, those petals. Cleaning up after them was one of the only things I had to do.
And maybe that’s it: the hurry-blurry life of spring on a farm: so much happening, so much needing immediate attention, so much yet to be done. It’s an effort to slow down and appreciate how quickly the world is changing around us. Looking north from the kitchen window just this morning, I marveled at the sheer number of shades of green I could see. This view looks toward the wooded end of the property. I was slightly envious of the insects and other animals who can see more of the color spectrum than we can: all I saw was lots of lime greens and chartreuses of new deciduous leaves, new coniferous growth, new meadow. New. And very variegatedly green.
It helps to slow down and look. Soon enough, that view will melt into the dark green of summer.