In elementary school, time was marked by the celebration of the seasons through the constant production of writing and artwork. You couldn’t esape the fact that it was autumn (falling leaves, chestnuts) or winter (icicles and snow—even though we rarely saw these) because they were all over the classroom wall. And then you had to write yet another poem about daffodils!
Now, of course, I love that connection with the seasons and, as we pass the spring solstice, I want to savor this moment of early spring. The winds are whipping round and we’re still two or three weeks away from true warmth. Blossoms are bursting out every day, but it feels a long way from lush April.
So, in celebration of chilly, life-giving March, pictures from my garden and poems by poets.
Sunday
by Margaret James
my backyard is honey
and a bumblebee sweeper
broccoli wood, memory of a previous year
chilled wet grass
almost Eden
it’s spring, a celebration
that will pass too fast
First Crocus
by Christine Klocek-Lim
This morning, flowers cracked open
the earth’s brown shell. Spring
leaves spilled everywhere
though winter’s stern hand
could come down again at any moment
to break the delicate yolk
of a new bloom.
The crocus don’t see this as they chatter
beneath a cheerful petal of spring sky.
They ignore the air’s brisk arm
as they peer at their fresh stems, step
on the leftover fragments
of old leaves.
When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air.
Spring Vow
By Larissa Shmailo
We will love like dogwood.
Kiss like cranes.
Die like moths.
I promise.
Today we woke up to snow, 5 inches by tonight.
But there is a branch of plum blossoms beginning to bloom in our livingroom – pale magenta.
And there is a beautiful post on my computer with pictures and poems and thoughts in purple, white and yellow.
Maybe this year spring is where you find it.
Thank you Stella
A few hours north of PB, we were told to expect 6-8″ of snow from this storm, and most of it’s already here. Beautiful, but kind of dispiriting, too. Yesterday I went for a walk in the warm (45-degree) sunshine, and could smell things striving to burst out of the cold ground. I guess they’ll have to wait a little longer.
Every year around this time I begin to wonder if spring will ever come back at all. Thanks, Stella, for the ray of hope. Your garden is a delight.
Thanks for the pictures and lovely poems, Stella! I’m never jealous of the cold and snowfall you Easterners and Midwesterners get, but always miss the beginning of Spring and the renewal it is and signifies.
Crocuses lift the
stiff brown leaves up off the lawn,
just faintly greening.
I love the juxtaposition of your posts to the rest of Great Whatsit. We talked all week of politics and music, and your post is about the simple joy of spring. What an awesome thought to start the weekend with and finish the weekdays with.
Beautiful.
Add my thanks to whats already been said for the lovely images and words. Really a pleasure.
sorry to end the love fest . . .
Die like moths.
I promise.
This was Fu**in’ depressing.
upon closer examination
“it’s spring, a celebration
that will pass too fast”
and
“When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air.”
come on people, I thought I was sentimental.
It makes me glad to have married in to a Catholic family and to have learned . . . all the great lessons.
art, pain, irony, humor.
as my sister-in-law (married to a nice Jewish boy, ‘don’t you know’) has said to me.
Uhhh . . . you’re all such white people.
To quote an anglo-catholic convert: “April is the cruelest month.”
#7…which reminds me of how much i’m enjoying “celebrating and singing myself” through this blog, posted on the GW comments a few weeks ago.
and stella: bloomin’ blooms. very nice, .
knowing what’s best for poor people
that’s the one.
I volenteered once at a homeless shelter, giving out clothes.
my god, those people went after that stuff like the Kohmeni funeral.
I felt SO presumptuous afterwards
and then the
getting arts degrees and . . . not . . . really having any of that other shit.
, . .
. . . . . .. . . .
That white people blog is really funny.
Just one more thought and then I’ll end this ranting chain.
Dinner Parties – really funny.
I would like to note however, that at TGW we have hosted a dinner party or two.
But we don’t do it like those Amherst Kids, no we don’t.
Shoes get lost, glasses end up in toilets, and Slade ends up . . . well, I’ll stop there.