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Crossing the Threshold

April 16, 2023 by Denise Brake 6 Comments

There are many times in our lives we encounter a threshold where time seems to slow down with the weightiness of our next step. We become aware of all that has transpired in the past, and depending on the facts and our mindset, it may be tinged with negative feelings or with feelings so positive we are reluctant to leave it behind. And yet, the unknown landscape before us is calling our name in whispers both alluring and compelling. We are standing at the point of no return. No matter how comfortable or beautiful or sad the past has been, there is no going back—we must take that step, cross the threshold, and continue forward.

I am the worst when standing on the threshold. I can barely bring myself to leave the comfort I have grown into and around, so thoroughly enmeshed in the steadiness I have built into my past. I can be looking forward to the next adventure with excitement—whether school or a new place to live—and still I have a knot in my stomach, tears in my eyes, and fingers clenched on the door jamb in a dare to time and loved ones to move me forward. I fail miserably at adaptability.

I usually argue with Mother Nature at this time of year as the warmer temperatures of Spring start to melt Winter’s beautiful snow. I don’t want to see it go. I adore the ‘snow light’ that permeates the house. I love the crisp crunch when walking on the miraculous crystals. The cold feels so good on my face and body. But this last week, I have (mostly) graciously conceded to time (it has been five months with snow on the ground), temperatures (how can it be 78 degrees?), and my loved ones (who can’t wait for warmer days and green grass.) Mother Nature has shoved us through the threshold into Spring!

On Easter Monday Chris and I hiked our last snow hike of the season at Greenleaf Lake State Recreation Area. The tracks on the slushy ice of the lake were vestiges of ice-fishing capades. There is no going back there this season.

Old cattails with bulgy, lightened seedheads were ripe for dispersal of the fluffy seeds. Soon they will fly away to their new homes to make new plants in the cycle and circle of life.

The trail was a combination of sunshiny bare ground and soft, sinky snow where the warm temps had released the solid structure of the frozen molecules.

The Red Oaks and Ironwoods were liberating the old leaves they had carried all Winter, and the beautiful amber color of them was littered along the wooded trail. The beautiful Spring-is-here litter in the dirty snow!

We saw trees in all states—fallen soldiers who now protect a waterway from erosion, a decaying tree that gives a focused vision of the lake, a towering Oak with the power of the sun behind it activating the bud-popping sap, and the bark-stripped, weathered wood of a standing piece of art.

There were trees stuck in the ice, leaning or fallen into the lake but still alive, connected to roots, and getting ready to grow in their unorthodox positions.

Long-fallen trees in the midst of decay sported colorful little shelf mushrooms, along with lichens and moss. There was life among the death.

The spiny caterpillar-like stem of a gooseberry branch will be one of the first to open green buds beside the sharp thorns.

And the vibrant scarlet stems of Red-twigged Dogwoods are setting their pointy-leaved buds on the threshold of Spring.

A holey tree with a halo of golden Ironwood leaves has seen many decades of the past and has fewer years of life before it. It is probably gripping the threshold with roots and branches, too. How does one leave such a beautiful, holy life?

But then I spot a constellation of stars in an old Oak leaf in the dirty snow. Water and sunlight, in just the right way, created a new cosmic entity! There is so much in the world that we don’t see and don’t comprehend. We are like tiny new buds in the timeline of our ancient world.

Mother Nature gave me a reprieve today on my threshold of Spring. We woke up to white and will have six inches by the end of the day. But it will most likely be gone again tomorrow. There’s no going back—Spring is here. There is always life of a new season after the death of an old one. The threshold time is a pause for looking back, for gathering the good that gave our hearts comfort and joy, but also for listening to the siren calls of our souls that entice us onward. What whispers do you hear? What constellation of stars do you see?

Waiting for What We Want

May 1, 2022 by Denise Brake 3 Comments

I remember the bubbling, hard-to-contain excitement I felt in grade school as the large round clock face inched its way towards the end of the school day. It wasn’t with a sense of relief that I moved towards that bell ringing, because I loved school and learning, but I looked forward to the other things in my life that were also meaningful—horses in the pasture by our driveway, cats and dogs at our home, and acres of woods behind our house where we built forts and made trails. My first way of learning. It’s hard to wait when something is pulling you forward.

I would not be stepping on anyone’s toes in stating that Minnesotans are anxiously waiting for Spring. She has shown up on the calendar, in the snow melt, and maybe in some moderating temperatures, but we have seen snow, freezing high temps, and barren ground. At least with waiting for Spring, kind of like watching the clock at school, we know with certainty that it will come.

On the 21st, one month after the official start of Spring, I walked at Saint John’s Arboretum in the hopes of seeing Spring come bursting forth. I found a scroll of Birch bark—did this hold the secret script of Spring’s timeline?

I found one patch of snow still on a shady stretch of trail. I found the reassuring green of moss covering a sloping bank and the first ‘flowers’ of the season pushing up stalks of spores from the soft bed of moss.

I found some green Fern fronds and a few trails of Wild Strawberries that had maintained their ‘greenness’ under the blanket of Winter snow.

I found a hardy Thistle rosette that had stubbornly thrived under the snow.

And on the prairie, I searched high and low for the early-blooming Pasque flower to no avail, but I did find the green leaves of Prairie Smoke under the old grass litter—a small signal of Spring hope.

But that was it—beyond the tough little Pine seedlings that survive the snow burial of Winter which actually protects them from extreme cold and nibbling rabbits and deer. Gotta love them!

So I waited another week—one 60 degree day and some rain tricked us all into thinking this was it, but the cold returned, the sun hid behind pouty clouds, and we all waited again. Then on Thursday, I noticed a change! Leaf buds were showing and swelling and even opening! Lilacs, Gooseberries, and Elderberries! Oh, my!

Scarlet Cup mushrooms, the first showy color that peeks from the forest floor, are one of only a few mushrooms that can grow when conditions are below freezing. They have been in their chilly element these past weeks.

In a day’s time, some sort of perennial Lily did finally burst forth, growing inches in hours! Now that is truly Spring!

This weekend has been rainy, though still below-average temperatures, and will be the game changer. The grass looks greener overnight, enticing the rabbits and deer to munch on the vernal goodness. And the Crabapples will soon be blooming!

The wait is not over, but the things we want from Spring—warmer temps, leaves, green grass, and flowers—are manifesting as I write. It’s hard to wait for what we want. We live in such an instantaneous self-gratifying world (thanks technology), and it has trained us to be impatient when things don’t go our way. But waiting for and anticipating something that is exciting for us can be a gift in and of itself. I remember wanting my own horse but having to wait for years before I had earned enough money from cleaning out stalls at our neighbor’s horse farm. I remember wanting to be married to Chris, to see him every day but waiting in different states until our wedding day. The conditions have to be right—for Spring, for buying things, for getting married. And sometimes, we don’t get what we want—the conditions are never just right, our will or desire is not enough to overcome the odds, another person is unwilling or unable, or things are so beyond our control that we cannot get what we want or even need. But the things that pull us forward are limitless—the Spirit of the Universe never sleeps. Spring will arrive, then Summer, Fall, and Winter. It may not be on our time schedule of wants, but it will happen. That’s reassuring. Waiting also gets us out of our own heads and our thinking that we are the Kings and Queens of the world. We are not. We have things to learn—patience may be one of them. And sometimes, oftentimes, the outcome—whether a flowering Spring, a wonderful horse, or a beautiful marriage—is definitely worth the wait.

Worth the Wait

May 5, 2019 by Denise Brake 6 Comments

I remember being nine months pregnant with our first child…and waiting. Patiently waiting. It had been a relatively easy pregnancy, and I was still feeling well. My last day at work was my due date. One week went by…still waiting. Everything was ready—except for the baby apparently. Another week went by, and the doctor began the induction. Nothing. He reluctantly gave me another week…for waiting.

I feel like we are doing the same thing with Spring this year. We are waiting; a learned patience is holding the reins in an easy, yet expectant way. Like the baby, there is no doubt that Spring is coming. All the signs are here. We are so close! It is time. Of course, we need to clarify the definition of Spring—what it is that makes us think Spring is finally here. I think most would say that we need leaves on the trees and some early-blooming flowers to finally breathe a sigh of relief that Old Man Winter will no longer be knocking unexpectedly at our door. And while the trees are still winter-esque in their bare silhouettes, there is evidence that our waiting time is soon over! Each branch has swollen leaf and/or flower buds. Perennials are pushing their way up through Fall’s leaf litter. Brown is still the predominate color—but not for long! Delivery time is nigh!

Three weeks after her due date, the doctor informed us that one way or another, we would have this baby—today. No more waiting. Mother Nature is on the precipice of the birth of Spring, in all its glory. Once the birthing process begins and progresses, there’s no stopping it! But wait—for just one moment—think about all the biological processes that are taking place while we wait, the things we don’t see, the marvels of pregnancy and development. Therein lies the reason for our learned patience, the reason for the waiting, the reason why we are not the ones in charge of the timeline. Things are happening while we wait. Soon enough, we will forget about the anxious waiting and the pain of birth when we hold our miracle baby. Soon enough, we forget about the cold and snow and brownness of Winter when the green and sweetness of Spring suffuses our senses. With a nod and a prayer to the Power that is greater than all of us, we breathe in the delicious smell of new baby or new Spring and let out a sigh of recognition that indeed, it was worth the wait.

To All Those Who Came From Mothers

May 13, 2018 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

Our very being, essence, health and happiness depend on Mother Earth. –David Suzuki

Where and how do we begin? What is our essence? To whom do we owe our health and happiness? Yikes! These are deep questions! On this Mother’s Day, there is no need to overwhelm ourselves with an endless pool of existential inquiry, but maybe we should at least dip our toes in. Only some of us are mothers, but all of us came from mothers. We all know at least half of the equation. We were all mothered in one way or another—the judgement of how that turned out is only for each one of us to determine in the journey of our lives. Of course, that journey changes if and when we become mothers (and fathers) ourselves and when we lose those that brought forth our life. And so it goes…

The essence of life is Springing forth. The change that happens in one week’s time is mind-boggling and mind-humbling—we are dealing with a force so much bigger than ourselves. The greening of the grass seems simple compared to perennials pushing up and unfolding from the earth and dormant trees exploding with flowers and new leaves. We really are fortunate to witness such miracles, do you know? Look at the fresh flowers and tender leaves of these two types of Maple trees:

Blue Jay mates were foraging for food this week, vocalizing their pleasure of Spring mating and nest-building.

Linden leaves began the filling-out process of changing the trees’ skeletal silhouettes to geometrical shapes.

The Rabbits were in a frenzy one early morning, darting here and there, perhaps for no other reason than Spring is finally here!

Tiny new Wild Strawberry flowers opened up as the only-days-old Magnolia flowers wilted, browned, and fell—a miniature birth and death cycle that leads to the next step in the biological process—the formation of fruits and seeds.

Two surprises showed up this week that had me rushing for the camera—it’s exciting to see something that one has never seen before! We have had many types of woodpeckers frequent the feeders, but I had never seen a flashy Red-headed Woodpecker until this week.

Another morning flash of color attracted my attention—a Red-breasted Grosbeak.

Mayapples, Epimedium, and Lily-of-the-Valley arose, appeared, and unrolled from the earth, from where there was nothing visible before.

Standing at the kitchen sink, looking out the window, I see the ‘Prairie Fire’ Crabapple has a white cloud of Wild Plum blossoms surrounding its dark burgundy leaves and flower buds.

Spring marks the beginning of a full cycle of emergence, growth, development, seed formation, offspring, transformation, decline, and death. It’s the new time, an exciting time, a time that makes one frenetic with energy for no good reason other than Winter is over and Spring is here! Mother Earth’s pregnant potential showcases beginnings and alludes to the essence of Life. She provides sunshine and vitamin D for our health and brings us smiling happiness and wonder. In the midst of all of this, there is each one of us and our half of the equation. Our being, where once there was nothing, was brought forth by an egg and a sperm, was developed in the nourishing cloud of a womb, emerged into this mind-boggling, mind-humbling world, and then developed and filled out into the shape of our essence. We are mothered by mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandmas, grandpas, friends, teachers, mentors, and others—we deserve to be cared for, respected, listened to, and loved and to give those things in return. If we determine that we have fallen short of that, we must remember that we are dealing with a force that is so much bigger than us—the God-force of Life itself, where all things are possible. As we live into our half of the equation, let us give thanks for all the caring Mothers in our lives. We really are fortunate to be such miracles.

A Slow Slide and Adversity

March 18, 2018 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.” –Anne Bradstreet

I knew my third pregnancy would be my last, and I was intentional in being present and grateful for the miracle of growing and carrying a new human being. I really liked being pregnant and had had easy pregnancies before. That was about to change! Morning sickness was my constant companion for most of the way through two trimesters, and I spent more than my share of time on the couch and in the bathroom. Saltine crackers were my friends, and the smell of tuna and the act of brushing my teeth were my enemies. Yet every day, I was grateful. As my abdomen grew large, time was slow and sweet as I welcomed each and every thing with my newest babe.

We have had a cold winter—not as snowy as most, but very cold. Spring officially arrives on Tuesday, and I find myself being present and grateful for the chilly, icy mornings along with the sunny, above-freezing days. I am not wishing Winter away. The snow melt reveals the winter’s pile of sunflower seed shells under the bird feeder where every kind of creature, bird and mammal alike, have rummaged for the high-fat black oil seeds that slipped through the cracks.

The snow melts in the strong sunshine during the day and hardens into crusty, compacted crystals during the freezing nights. The power of the sun is evident after a winter of low-in-the-sky traveling—snowbanks recede even when the temperature is below freezing.

Lavender is still stuck in the snow; leaves and sticks in the yard absorb the warmth and melt the ice and snow around them.

The wonder of Spring is beginning to reveal itself with Birch and Hazelnut catkins and swollen Maple tree buds.

Melted snow pooled into a small stream-bed of rocks—liquid by day, ice by night.

Geese, Trumpeter Swans, and even some Sandhill Cranes have taken flight through the blue skies, announcing their presence with their distinctive songs.

The pair of pairs of Eagles are at their nests—time will reveal whether each have viable eggs. The oldest pair was not brooding on the nest, but one was sitting on a branch when we came by. One of the younger Eagles at the other nest was keeping eggs warm.

Saturday’s surprise was the spotting of two Robins! Iconic signs of Spring. I wonder if they were confused by the snow still in the yard!

I like how we slide slowly out of Winter into Spring. Longer days and melting snow remind us how far from the Winter Solstice we are—we’ve made it through another season of cold and snow! While the dormancy of Winter is important for gathering nutrients and resting the system, it also makes Spring and Summer that much sweeter! The mindful morning sickness I felt in my last pregnancy was, in essence, getting me ready for the adversity and long recovery after the birth. What does adversity reveal to us? It reveals our strengths and endurance. It shows our weaknesses, and the places we are stuck. It magnifies the cracks in the system that we’ve slipped through. Adversity allows us to learn our own distinctive song of ourselves and how to sing it. It teaches us to absorb the warmth and power of Love that melts away the obstacles that have been holding us back. Because of this, I do not wish Winter or adversity away anymore, but I sure do welcome Spring and the good fortune that lay on the other side.

Minnesota Micro-Springery

April 2, 2017 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

A microbrewery makes small batches of specialty beers that showcase particular ingredients, a certain season, or theme. The craft brewery in our little town, for example, makes a seasonal beer called Sugar Shack Maple Stout, made with maple syrup that is harvested by the monks and others at Saint John’s Abbey Arboretum and Forest just a skip and a hop from here. (We helped tap trees a couple years ago—Welcome to the Sugar Shack—for the making of that syrup—Sap to Syrup.) Whereas traditional breweries make millions of barrels of beer each year, US regulations permit microbreweries to make no more than 15,000 barrels per year. Microbreweries concentrate on quality, flavor, and techniques. According to www.hopandwine.com, “Every day is a delicious science experiment at a microbrewery.” I love that!

On this 2nd day of April, Central Minnesota is a Micro-Springery. Small batches of Spring can be found if one looks closely. Later Spring will be lush with greenness everywhere, overwhelming the senses with millions of Spring things. But for now, Spring is slowly unfolding in a delicious awakening. Join me for a tour of the neighborhood Micro-Springery.

Aspen tree catkins have emerged, like fuzzy caterpillars hanging from the branches.

Common Yarrow, with its fern-like, aromatic foliage is one of the first perennials to grow in a sunny location. The leaves can be used for a hop substitute and preservative for beer-making! (ediblewildfood.com)

Beautiful, iconic Spring Pussy Willow! If we don’t protect this shrub with fencing, the deer will eat it right down to the ground. Luckily it is resilient and grows back quickly.

The buds are just breaking out of the beautifully-barked Serviceberry.

Wild geraniums with hairy, red-tinged foliage from last year and pristine new green leaves are a shade-loving perennial that blooms early in the growing season.

Blue Flag Iris, another early bloomer, pushes out its triangular leaves through last year’s debris.

Hazelnut catkins hang like dangling earrings, adorning the shrub in Spring splendor.

Pungent Allium, with their frost-tipped leaves, will bloom in the middle of summer with their distinctive purple-ball flowers.

Red clusters of Maple tree flower buds will open before the leaves develop and appear.

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” Microbreweries don’t brew beer just to have beer, they want it to taste amazing. Mother Nature doesn’t give us Spring just for aesthetics, but to teach us how to fly in the wind like the catkin pollen and seeds, how to be a common human being and do extraordinary things, how to be beautiful and resilient, how to have a splendid protective covering and let your gifts emerge, how to bloom early, in the middle, and late in your life, how to push your way through last year’s debris, and how to adorn yourself with loving splendor. Mother Nature shows us, with all her seasons, that life is one delicious science experiment after another. I love that!

In Love with This Green Earth

May 5, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

I am in love with this green earth. –Charles Lamb

Do you remember the feelings you had when you first fell in love with your beloved? A euphoric happiness settled over me. I thought about him all the time. I couldn’t wait to see him again, though months would pass since we lived 400 miles from one another. I happily spoke about him, sharing stories of who he was as a person. I read and re-read the letters he sent and immediately answered them. I marveled at his handsomeness, his politeness, his kindness to family and friends. I felt lucky or blessed or pinch-me-I’m-dreaming that he felt the same way about me.

May turns a corner for us into the fullness of Spring, and I have to say, I am quite smitten. The green-ness and new-ness of this season should not come as any surprise–it happens every year! And yet, I find myself thinking, “Was last Spring this beautiful?!” I can’t get enough of looking out the window at the lush green grass and the emerging leaves.

I happily wander through the yard and woods, delighting at the swiftly growing ferns and the spring-blooming perennials.

There is an overabundance of growth, a population explosion of buds, flowers, and plants coming back to life from the dormancy of winter. (Go to North Star Nature Facebook page to ‘Like’ and see more May flowers and photos of nature.)

I am in love with this green earth. The changing seasons have a way of opening our minds to development and the cycles of Life–like falling in love with your beloved. Spring flushes the winter dormancy and old ideas from our minds and bodies to be replaced with possibilities and reliabilities–like having faith in Goodness. Renewal fills our souls with explosions of hope for the greener, growing, greater days ahead–like living in a Sanctuary. We are blessed to be living on this beautiful green earth!

Our Instagratification World

April 7, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

Take a photograph and instantly share it with your friends or the world. Give your opinion on politics, sports, or entertainment in the moment that it’s happening. Send a video that is ‘erased’ after the viewer sees it. Deposit or transfer money and pay bills with a few clicks on your phone. Look up anything you want to know. Welcome to the Instagratification world of smart phones. Instant gratification isn’t the reason for or result of smart phone technology–it has been part of the human psyche for eons. As infants and young children we want food, sleep, attention, toys, etc., and we want them now. Learning to delay gratification is a trait in human development that takes maturity, practice, willpower, patience, and the ability to see future consequences.

The calendar declared Spring was here over two weeks ago. With daylight savings time and longer days, evenings are light until nearly 8:00! Last weekend we had a day with temperatures in the 60’s! But since then, highs have been in the upper 30’s and low 40’s with below freezing nights and scatters of snow. Ice was on the birdbath we put out for the bluebirds. The weather man was talking wind chills. With the exception of some green grass, it doesn’t look much like Spring.

With hat and gloves warming me, I went out in search of the subtle signs of Spring. The maple tree right outside our window that had been forming flower buds for weeks, finally popped into bloom!

Our tiny forsythia bush, nearly lost in the long grass from last year, has bright yellow flower buds.

Daffodil and crocus leaves are pushing their way up out of the cold, brown ground. The yellowed, frozen tips of the daffodils are their crown of courage.

Rounded, red rhubarb buds emerge from the papery brown skins that hide them for the winter.

Honeysuckle and lilac shrubs will be the first to open their green leaves.

The hardy chives are growing fast, defiant to the snow flurries in their heralding of Spring.

Rosettes of sedum buds begin their growing season early and will grow and mature all spring and summer until they finally bloom in fall.

Mother Nature is not in the business of Instagratification! Even though we want warm weather, flowering trees and shrubs, bright blooming bulbs of tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils–and we want them now, we must slow down and respect Nature’s time. She teaches us patience and that it’s not all about us. Richard Louv, author of ‘Last Child in the Woods’ and new book ‘Vitamin N’ says, “The more high-tech we become, the more nature we need.” We need to observe the subtleties of Nature in order to develop the skills for detailed work. We also need to look at the ‘big picture’ of us on this Earth in order to envision how we want the future generations to live. We need to appreciate the early and the late bloomers for their contributions. Nature teaches us there is Life beyond technology, and that our health and well-being are enhanced by our encounters with her. Let Nature be your crown of courage and feel the Instagratitude!

The Ugly Time

March 8, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

You’ve heard of the ugly duckling, the ugly cry, and ugly houses. The word itself–ugly–is, well, rather ugly. It has a formidable list of synonyms under categories of ‘unattractive,’ ‘disagreeable,’ ‘bad,’ ‘threatening,’ and ‘cross’ ranging from the rather benign ‘plain’ to the severe ‘repulsive’ and ‘grotesque.’ This time of year is what I call ‘the ugly time.’ Most of the snow has melted; what is left of the snow piles is charcoal-colored and raggly. The grass is flattened and gravely where the piles were made by shoveling the snow from the driveway or sidewalk.

When the snow and ice melt from the road gutter, old leaves, sand, gravel, and salt remains are plastered against the curb.

A winter’s worth of trash magically and tragically appears when the blanket of snow is pulled away by warm weather.

The fall-raked yard is littered with sticks, pinecones, and other debris that will need to be picked up before the first mowing.

The perennial beds are leaf-covered and dormant.

The view of the River and everywhere is gray, brown, muted, flattened, trashy, spent, and kind of ugly. It’s not the severe ugly that is hard to stomach, but it is unattractive in a dormant, neglected sort of way.

In two calendar weeks, it will be Spring. And in the midst of late Winter ugliness, the Star Magnolia already knows and displays the potential of what is to come!

And therein lies the beauty of ugliness–a whole world of potential is encompassed by the unbecoming outward appearance. It doesn’t matter that the young, ugly duckling doesn’t look like the others–what matters is what’s going on inside. Time and maturity unveil a beautiful swan who was that beautiful swan all along. An hour of HGTV reveals the potential of an ugly fixer-upper house–the art of transformation. An ugly cry face matters not when compared to the process within–the release of emotions and stress that opens the door to a change of heart. And the ugly, gray landscape is holding a rich, astonishing, life-affirming, and incredibly beautiful world that is almost ready to be seen. Hope and potential are budding with excitement, thanks to the first glimpse of the Star.

Happy New Year from Nature!

April 14, 2015 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

There is a subtle yet palpable excitement that I feel at this time of year. The colorful, organized seed racks are on prominent display at grocery, hardware, and do-it-yourself stores. Established nurseries and greenhouses have been busy for months sowing seeds into flats for vegetables and flowers. The pop-up garden centers are setting up their hooped greenhouses on pavement, surrounded by pallets of fertilizer, potting soil, and mulch. And the Spring plant material is arriving!

I also love the coming alive of the trees, shrubs, and perennials in our yard and woods. The quickly evolving changes demand a daily walk-about to see what has emerged from the dormant branches or the warming earth. After a fairly dry winter and early spring, the heavy gray skies on Sunday showered us with a half-inch of much-needed rain.

The grass turned green before our eyes, and the maple tree flowers opened their red buds to pompoms of scarlet and yellow.

A leopard frog leaped through the yard towards the house, her belly swollen with eggs.

Gray pussy willow catkins and yellow-flowering forsythia are the harbingers of Spring.

While the demure pussy willow is often overlooked, it is hard to ignore the sunshine bright forsythia when the flowers burst forth from their origami buds.

The rain prompted the growth of day lilies and irises, rising like the phoenix from the ash of dried leaves and last year’s rubble.

Rosettes of sedum popped through the river rocks on the warm, southwest side of the house.

A crinkly raspberry leaf unfurled from the ivory bud, shimmering and full of potential.

Clusters of lime green needles emerged from the woody stems of one of our petite larch trees. Larch are deciduous conifers that can grow 80-120 feet tall. Our trees are less than a yard tall–babies with a long life before them.

Sprays of buds adorned the lilac shrubs, each plump green leaf bud tinged with violet, foreshadowing the fragrant flowers yet to come.

I saw my first Robin last evening, the feathered harbinger of Spring. The vest of red-orange covering his rotund belly was bright against the gray tree branches. Welcome home to the North Country!

Spring is the Happy New Year in the seasonal life of Nature. It is a time of anticipation and excitement for a new growing season for the diverse Kingdom of Plants and for the next generation to take its place in the Kingdom of Animals. Plants embody the literal translation of ‘turning over a new leaf,’ while we embrace new beginnings and fresh starts.

The beginning of a New Year on January 1st has little data to prove itself beyond the calendar hanging on the wall. But Nature’s New Year has abundant and hearty proof that we can all begin anew and make a fresh start! When things seem impossible, we must remember to witness a tree transforming from a gray skeleton to a richly robed specimen. When the music is gone from our lives, we need only to experience the symphony of spring peepers or the melody of robins to know at our deepest level that Hope lives and sings in our soul.

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!

–Henry David Thoreau

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