Spring. How can it be that she marches in as expected yet takes us by surprise every year? Oh, we expect the buds to burst, flowers to blossom, birds to sing, and all forms of life to give birth, but still . . .
It never grows old to worship her display that transforms our world of winter’s gray and whites to subtle reflections changing with each dawning day.
Life forms long spent hiding in the mud suddenly emerge to bask in the sun.
Some listen dubiously as their male counterparts sing the ok-a-lee songs.
Others tuck into their surroundings, seeking warmth among foliage both old and new.
There are those who weave.
And others who appear to dance upon webs woven.
While fall is most often revered, spring begs to be noticed as more than a novice for as often as autumn occurs does her vernal season come before.
In so doing, she seems to combine the colors of both fringe seasons as if it came naturally. Because . . . it does.
Within seconds of opening her fountains of the future, pollinators find a fine source of nectar.
And those who teach gather to announce a local cooking class.
Into the woods and beside the waters I travel on almost a daily basis and with each tramp, life begs a notice.
Sometimes it’s in the form of a green pretending to be a tree–frog that is.
Other times it’s a female fairy shrimp who doesn’t seek the attention of a male, much to his dismay, because the brood pouch at the base of her abdomen is already full of future life forms.
And there are other signs of the future as seen in spotted salamander embryos forming and mosquito pupa tumbling.
Predators such as the predaceous diving beetle make themselves known because when you stay in the same neighborhood for a period of time, bumps in the road, or pool as it may be, are bound to happen.
Despite such roadblocks, life happens . . . in abundance.
Over and over again, the sunshine above . . .
finds its form in the forest floor below.
Sadly, it’s all so fleeting. I want it to stop. To pause. We’re all in pause mode right now and though we miss so much of the past, the present is a beautiful thing . . . if only we could hold onto it . . . before the spring that marched in leaps away.
6 thoughts on “Before Spring Leaps Away”
Every spring discovery is a gift of wonder.
Indeed. I just wish those baby leaves would last a little longer.
What kind of a snake was in the photo and can you expand on the spotted salamander eggs? I just saw one on a video in A Greenwood yard But have never otherwise seen a spotted salamander in Maine! Are they only found in Oxford county? I couldn’t tell if it was big but it looked to be 5-6 inches?
That’s a garter snake, Linda. I also saw a much larger water snake. If you click on this link: https://wondermyway.com/2020/04/27/im-in-frog-heaven/ and then click on the video link embedded within it, I think that will help you better understand spotted salamanders. They are all over the state and yes, kinda chunky compared to red-back and some other salamanders.
Thanks! Your reply link to spotted salamander interesting. Video from a house yard in Greenwood was daytime!
Also, garter snake? I have never seen a brown one before . Thought they mostly black? So reason I wondered what it was.
Garters can be black, brown, or dark green and variable marked with an alternating dark and light brown checkerboard pattern between light stripes. The natural world doesn’t make it easy for us to learn.
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