But it works for me.
I went for a walk with a friend this afternoon up a nearby 1300 foot high hill. I know Paul from grad school, and one of his chief redeeming qualities, apart from being an all-around decent guy, is that he’s as much of a wildflower geek as I am, if not more so. He gave me the lowdown on what’s going to pop up and where as spring unfolds. First up? The leaves of hepatica (Hepatica americana).
…as well as the leaves of trailing arbutus (Epigaea repens). These sort of don’t count, as the leaves stick around all winter.
Mind you, we’re a week or three ahead here – we’re at least a whopping 20 miles away from the homefront, farther south and on a west-facing slope that sucks all available light out of the atmosphere and for the most part, turns it into moss at this time of year:
I was here before, a few weeks ago, when the trail was coated in ice. Today, the foot and a half of snow we got last week was in full melt-down mode, but up high, there was still plenty of ice underfoot:
Overlapping layers of latticework: an everyday miracle of crystal formation.
I am told that this spot – a frozen vernal pool – will be rocking the azalea look in early June. I wonder if any salamanders conduct their romantic bidness here. Stay tuned, I guess.
What does a black birch have in common with a housecat? Both know how to get comfortable in improbable places.
Fern spores: “Here, children…try this candy…”
Don’t quote me, but I’m fairly sure these are glacial striations.
Thanks to the miracle of a pocket knife, we can all rest easy knowing what one J. S. Austin was doing on August 11, 1878. He was defacing a rock.
Vandalism + Time = Priceless Petroglyphs.