Running a Muddy Trail
A Strange Combination
{ 09:54, 20 March 2008 }
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As I write this, outside my window the sun is shining brightly, and a thick blanket of fine snowflakes is blowing back and forth. The birds are singing and the tress are tipped with a light blanket of the white stuff. A very strange combination, particularly appropriate for the first day of spring in this part of the world.The little knobblies of developing fiddleheads are prominent at the base of all the ferns. In areas of turkey scratching and deer feeding, the fine, bleached, tender tendrils of sprouted forest floor plants glow amid the damp earth. The trails are slowly picking up a carpet of red buds that have started falling off the trees and even the peonies have sprouted. Snow or not, you can't fool me, winter, spring is definitely on its way.
Yesterday the cat and I went for a walk in the woods. Our goal was to sneak up on the spring peepers in the old reservoir at the top of the hill. We successfully did that, and sat and listened to them until the rain started to really fall again. Their collective song rang loud and resonant, particularly when I turned and faced the crowd. The sensation was almost like a rock concert, I could feel the noise in my skull. But as we sat and listened, individual songs would pop out of the woodwork. At one point I was pretty sure there were a few wild turkeys chattering on the other side of the pond.
These individual tunes would wind and waver their way above the sound of the collective, unique songs of a very different nature than the rhythmic chirruping. We ran down the trail back to the house in the rain storm, the cat keeping up admirably.
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