16 April 2023 (yard work)

yard work . . .

mist moistens the new

tulip shoots

10 April 2021 (raking)

spring yard work

leaving a few dead leaves

atop the woolly bear

8 April 2020 (chives)

pink moon

a scent of fresh chives

in the raking

7 April 2019 (moss)

spring yard work

raking off the moss

to see some green

2 April 2019 (snowdrops)

last of the snow

raking last fall’s leaves

to find snowdrops

31 March 2019 (lawn)

freshly raked lawn

its potential revealed

to the crow

27 March 2019 (raking)

raking the lawn

around the snow

spring fever

October 17: Fallen leaves

unraked lawn

protecting habitat

for woolly bears

April 9: We discover snowdrops

raking the garden
what's been going on
under dead leaves and snow

March 24: Raking leaves

Because the fair weather has persisted, my husband and I chose today to commence our annual Raking of the Leaves. The day-long activity kept us warm in the chillier air, and the lawns and flower beds now look ready for spring's touch. The lilac and quince bushes already boast fat leaf buds, and tulip leaves push up here and there like green flags waving on the season. We uncovered a few previously undiscovered snow drops and crocuses. We also uncovered quite a few curled up woolly bear caterpillars, which had undoubtedly been hibernating in the heaps of dead leaves around the yard. Knowing the weather is supposed to get even more seasonable soon--i.e. much colder--we tried to put them in places where they'd continue to be protected from the elements.

Don't be fooled. Hang tight,
woolly bear, until spring is
really here to stay.

March 20: Spring Equinox

Spring is officially here at last! I celebrated the Vernal Equinox by spending the whole of this amazingly warm day outside raking my lawn. In shorts and a t-shirt at that. Now I think I'm going to spend what's left of my day on the couch popping ibuprofen. Raking is a full body activity, and after five straight hours of it, my whole body's in pain. But it's a good pain, the soreness of muscles from doing something vigorous and strenuous outdoors. And such satisfying work--I can see my actual lawn again after months of looking out on a carpet of dead leaves and dirty snow. The dried grass, while not much more attractive, at least looks well-combed now. Tulips and daffodils I had forgotten were out there have been revealed, their green shoots now exposed to sun. The sword tips of iris leaves emerge, and the baby chives would probably already taste good in a salad. My quince, lilac, and rhododendron bushes all appear to have survived the winter well; leaf buds are beginning to swell along their branches. Ah, the joy of fresh greenery.

While I worked, I felt like I had emerged from hibernation and was once again part of my neighborhood. My next-door neighbors kindly lent me their wheelbarrow for the day while they rototilled their garden. The kids across the street rode their bikes up and down the sidewalk, talked about swimming in the river (ice-out on Megunticook Lake was officially declared yesterday), and then spent a few hours loudly playing in their back yard. So reassuring to see children spending their days outside doing things. I periodically paused to chat with neighbors walking or driving by. A day like this puts everyone in good spirits, as we all luxuriate in the warm spring air.

The song sparrow that arrived back yesterday flitted about the backyard. Blue jays jeered. Titmice and cardinals sang distant love songs. A nuthatch called briefly. Crows cawed in response to a barking dog. All was as it should be on the first day of spring. The annual process of renewal has truly begun, and no matter what weather we get in the next month or so--it could still snow--there's no stopping it now.

Vernal equinox--
daylight has caught up with night,
green world stirs to life.