Facebook tells me that one year ago today I went for a walk in the woods, which sounds about right. I mean, what could be more appropriate for Easter weekend than seeking out new growth springing to life in the woods?
On Friday afternoon I went out to Lake Katharine to see what I could see: towhees singing "Drink your tea!", the first mayapples popping up out of the ground, a few trout lily buds getting ready to burst into bloom, purply stalks of blue cohosh sprouting like alien life forms, and dutchman's breeches providing pops of bright white in the dull brown undergrowth. Then this afternoon I took some time to wander into my own woods, past the daffodils and grape hyacinths that have gone native and the forsythia that's blooming more profusely than it has in years, and I found coltsfoot and a few trillium stems (but no blossoms yet) and tons of hepatica and a stand of bloodroot blooming so high up a steep, muddy slope that I'd be taking my life in my hands trying to get close.
Best of all, I walked along the stretch of road where I've been picking up beer cans--over 150 in two weeks' time--and I did not see a single can. In fact it's been a week since I last found any trash along that stretch of road. Coincidentally, the utility crews that have been working so intently all up and down our road for months have now moved on to a different area. I don't want to think that our dedicated utility workers have been responsible for all those beer cans, but it does seem odd that the cans appeared and disappeared at about the same time as the utility workers--and in fact, the last three cans I picked up were left in the exact spot where the utility workers' truck had been parked. Probably just a coincidence, right? If the cans don't return, I will assume that the problem has been solved. (For now.)
If the beer-can-tossers, whoever they are, had looked up along the hillside right next to where they tossed the beer cans, they might have seen that steep slope blanketed with deep green ferns and thick patches of blooming hepatica. I remember the first time I saw that hillside in bloom, during our first spring in this house when we still had our ailing dog: I'd walked Princess on a leash down to the creek, and as she lapped at the water, I glanced upward and was stunned to see a hillside festooned from top to bottom with white blossoms. Anyone driving past would be oblivious to the show, but stand in the right place and be still for a moment and you just might see something amazing. And what better time to do that than Easter weekend?
2 comments:
It could be the utility workers, though one hopes they aren't drinking on the job.
It could also be a thing where when people see trash, they feel more "allowed" to throw more trash than if they don't.
That's a really good point. I hadn't thought of it.
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