Colt’s Foot and Wild Leeks

There have been a few crocuses popping up but I’m not sure they count. The first flowers of spring are really Colt’s Foot. They pop out of the leaf litter on the roadside, yellow stars among last year’s crumpled leaves.

In the woods now, wild leeks emerge. There is a place nearby where I can see down and down into the trees as they slope downward to the west. This time of year it is clear of undergrowth. The floor of the forest grows green with wild leeks as they pierce the matted vegetation. Like crocuses they come from waking bulbs.

I will find my way into the woods behind our house, bend down and dig. I will pull some wild leeks from the soil and turn them into soup. I will bake bread and serve them with the soup. We will taste spring in our house.

Today, as the sun rose, the river smelled like more than melted snow. It smelled like earth and rain and new grass. I stood where the river flows under the road. Colt’s Foot bloomed at my feet. A Meadowlark sang, then zipped across the road until it disappeared into the willows.

Are we more attuned to spring this year? Do we notice more now that we have all slowed down? We are afraid, some of us, of what might come. Some of us are afraid of what has come. Spring, however, also comes. The yellow flowers bloom. The green leaves push up from bulbs.

I imagine the Phoebe, broadcasting from the roof of the falling barn, sings about such things. Perhaps, however, I give the Phoebe too much credit. I find beauty in the life that has been hidden, while the Phoebe simply finds insects and carries leaf stems to build its nest. It sings of that.

It is not wrong for me to be afraid. It is not wrong to admire life seeping back all around me. The Snipe, circling ghost-like over the meadow at dusk, reminds me that I can be both, reminds me that the turning of the world is worth my attention, whether I am afraid or not.

Brown and Green December

We had snow. Then it melted. That usually happens. And usually I am disappointed. It is mid-December, and snow lingers only in the shady spots. At least it isn’t all gone. The mountains are tipped in white, blanketed even. Here in the valley, however, it feels like spring.

The sun hasn’t shown itself much, but yesterday it came through. And the temperature climbed over the freezing mark. It felt like March. With the last of the snow melting, it looked like March, too. Clouds came in. The Geminid meteor shower was a bust around here. It hoped we might get one more shot at seeing some shooting stars last night, but those pesky clouds…

The grass is showing again. It is mixed in with the brown of fallen leaves and dried shoots, but it persists.  Squirrels pluck seeds, fallen from the bird feeder, from the lawn. They seem to be navigating the grass just fine. No mistletoe or ivy needed around here. Green lies around right outside the window.

This is pretty typical these days. Not that long back our December days had little green and lots of white. We shoveled out many a day. Our snow shovel sits unused on the porch. I have to hope we get some more snow before Christmas. I can’t say I’m optimistic, but I can say I’m hopeful. 

The temperature has creeped up again this morning. Winter seems to be trying to emulate spring. Just be yourself, winter. You are beautiful the way you are. Let spring be spring. I want to see your snowy self. Be glorious. Be icy. Be cold. But no pressure. Next week will do. Just don’t wait too long. Christmas isn’t far off.  

Still Some Color

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Peak foliage has passed. Around here it was about three weeks ago. Earlier farther north. We have had some wind, plenty of it in fact. And lately it has been raining. A lot. Wind and rain tear down the leaves, especially after they have reached their peak color. And so it has been. But there is still plenty of color to be had in the trees.

This morning I went down to the lake. I was hoping to find ducks. And maybe a late shorebird. Shorebirds have mostly migrated through, but there are always a few stragglers. But I didn’t see any today. I did see ducks from up north, however. Some of them will stick around for a while, as long as the ice stays away. I saw Buffleheads and Goldeneye and even a Black Scoter. Even if I hadn’t seen any, however, it would have been worth it.

The Adirondacks across the water were lit up with scattered sun. Clouds skittered across the firmament, but broken. So the sun popped though onto the mountains. The brilliant leaves remaining, and the fresh snow up high, were glowing. I started in Shelburne, with some birding success (Black Scoter!). I kept going south after that to the Charlotte town beach. I struck out there–the wind was fierce. There were a few Mallards in the cove and some gulls circling in the air currents, but otherwise it was a dud.  But those mountains…

Even on the Vermont side there were a few gems. One oak was ka-powing right next to my car. And there were maples lining the road in a couple of spots–yellow and red and orange.  I mean, it isn’t what busloads of visitors come to see. It wasn’t whole hillsides of brilliance. But still, there is some color sticking around. By Thanskgiving it will all be gone, but I’ll take it for now.

Dude, so dang gorgeous

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For the past week or so I keep repeating various takes on the phrase “Good god it is beautiful around here.” I mean, it is just stunning where I live this time of year. You have your pink apple blossoms next to red barns, white trilliums carpeting forest floors, rust-colored maple buds. Leaves creep up the hillsides. Grass is suddenly knee high. Green and yellow are everywhere. My eyes keep popping.

Peepers sing as the sun sets. Snipes whistle their ghostly whistles in the darkness before the sun rises. For the how-many-I-can’t-count time I say aloud something like, “I can’t believe how different it was just two months ago.” Two months ago it was cold and frosty and quiet. Now? Lush. Cacophonous.

Fiddleheads have unfurled into ferns. Wild leeks have started to dim. Colt’s Foot’s yellow flowers are faded. Now the dandelions and maple leaves take their turn. Summer has packed it’s bags. It will be here any day now.

Still Some Color Here

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We have had some wind lately, and some welcome rain. Most deciduous trees are bare. Our yard was covered in leaves the other day. My wife took advantage of the wind and raked them up into the air so they would get carried off. There is a wall of leaves now at the edge of the field. The lawn is clear.

We have had snow a few times. Nothing much in the valley, although some tracks have been laid on high elevation slopes already. And we have been getting rain for days, on and off. Several days ago I laid the hose on the hill to dry so I can roll it up and store it for the winter. It has only gotten wetter. We haven’t cut the grass in weeks, but it is still green.

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A few trees, like the Japanese Maple next to the house, are still bright. That tree is brilliant. It isn’t native but I can see why it was planted. It’s a beaut.  And there are places where red and orange and yellow leaves are spread out in bright layers. The foliage that draws leaf peepers may have dwindled but there is plenty of color lingering in the corners.

When the sun has managed to find its way out of the clouds this week, it has highlighted the snow on the mountains, or the trunks of trees now visible, or the leaves piled at the edge of the woods. Slowly this will fade to gray, but fall is still here.

Wind and Hawks

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Last night the wind picked up. My daughter and I started today with a 5K run in Shelburne. There were not that many runners but it was a perfect day for a run. The temperature was mid-fifties when we started, clouds puffed their way across the morning sky, and the wind kept at it. A wind jacket was just enough with a pair of shorts and short sleeves.

We were done early, home by 9:30. We got to see some fine views of the Green and Adirondack Mountains, as we often do here in the Champlain Valley. The trees still donned their colors, but the wind muted things a bit. The leaves are doing what they do this season–falling. So the hills are losing their luster, but still, it is hard to take in all the glory.

Just before we started the run, a Northern Harrier caught the wind. It soared and dipped and cornered and curved. Its white rump flashed in the high sunlight. It flew north. Then another Harrier appeared, chased by an American Crow. The crow dove to harass the hawk, missed, then rose up to try again. The Harrier seemed to shrug it off. If birds could roll their eyes, this one might have.

Later, at another spot on the lake, I watched a Red Tailed Hawk fly past, high overhead. The wind was strong enough that its wings were tucked tight. Twice I saw it spread its wings to turn a bit, then it pulled them in again and made a bee line south. It looked like it was diving while horizontal. It was a stiff wind. A moment later I watched a second Red Tail follow the same path. It was a good morning to make some distance.

Late today rain started to fall. I had just washed out the birdfeeders. I pulled them apart and scrubbed them with soap in a bucket. It want them clean so I can start putting them out again. Wind tossed the branches around while I dunked my arms into soapy water. I left the parts out to dry. The wind should help make that happen quickly. The rain will hinder that. Good thing I put everything under cover of the porch.

Soon the leaves will be off the trees. Winter will feel close. Already we have had frost. The other day I pulled in the basil and made a batch of pesto to freeze. I started a fire outside late yesterday and we spent a few hours in the autumn colors with the warmth of a fire. It got dark early. Again the seasons turn. Around here, they make a show of it.

Autumn Around Here

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Driving back from the market yesterday morning I rounded the corner and was taken aback, as they used to say, by the beauty of the view. I saw my house across the field, the hill behind it lit up with autumn color. Early yesterday fog rolled out and clouds tossed around the sunlight and it was a stunner of a day.

I started off my morning a trip to Shelburne Pond to look for birds. I was rewarded with a new one for the year for my county list–five Ruddy Ducks were swimming and diving just out from shore. They are not common around here so it was a treat to watch them for a while. I saw some late Red-Winged Blackbirds and heard a Song Sparrow singing. I came home to hear Meadowlarks calling and chattering in our field. There were half a dozen of them, pausing on their way south.

I am fortunate to have an amazing view right from my house. I can watch the hills, this time of year, as the leaves turn yellow and red and orange as color makes its way down the hills. Soon I will be seeing snow on the summits and we will be thinking of skiing. I will seek out more migrating birds today at some point, get out there and enjoy these colors while they last. Halloween isn’t far off. By the time we carve up pumpkins and get some costumes ready and collect all that candy, these leaves will already be turning to dirt.

Leaves Turning

IMG_5182Here it is, the color wash on the hillsides, the collective visual shouting of millions of leaves. That shouting will get even louder in the next week or two. Talk around here has come back around to whether or not we have reached peak foliage.

I hear the Northeast Kingdom is peak right now.

The Eye on the Sky said it was peak on the summits. 

I don’t think it’s peak here yet; I give it two weeks yet.

I love the noun “peak” to describe the brightest, most resplendent moment of the turning of the autumn leaves. The thing to do is to be on a peak at peak to take a peek at the brilliance from where the view is broad. Stunning it is on these last days of September, with weather to allow us to see it all.

Personally I am guessing maybe ten days until peak. I haven’t been wrong yet this year.

 

Foliage For Now

Not Bad, Eh?

Things are popping around these parts at this point. Yesterday and today were just simply glorious, fabulous, lovely, or whatever other descriptors I don’t typically use to describe, well, anything really. I was out early this morning and, once again, was reminded that I live in a beautiful place. It is always beautiful, and it is easy to take that for granted at times, but on days like today–hoo boy what a stunner.

A big fat rainstorm is predicted to hot tonight. We might get a couple of inches of rain, winds with 50 mile per hour gusts and cold temperatures.  My guess is we will have few leaves left at which to gawk when it has passed.  So it goes, however. We still have some fall left. And then, welcome winter. Once it snow, we will have a whole new wonder upon us.

Hinesburg Foliage Report 13 October 2009

Here are a couple more photos from our vantage point. It seems to be stunning if you ask me. I woke this morning and ran in the rain. In the dark. It was surreal, mesmerizing, the rain drops white and spinning in my headlamp. It was the first morning I had to run with a light the whole time. I saw no foliage. Later, when we walked out to meet the bus, it was still raining, but the gray light on the colored hills was beautiful. It’s hard not to be mesmerized this time of year, and this one seems to be another good one. These photos are from yesterday afternoon.

The Hump in Fall

The Hump in Fall

What's Not to Like About This?

What's Not to Like About This?