For the Love of Spring!

Nourishing and fresh! Soul-quenching and pure!

Spring is an expression of life at its most vital and new.

The blessings of rising up early in the morning are many and the beauty of spring is especially apparent at sunrise making for a rewarding experience. Recently I encountered the magical qualities of my home landscape just as the sun was rising and share the wonders with you here. May my story and pictures be an inspiration to you.

The soaking rain had ended in the quiet morning hours just after midnight. No moon could be seen. With the passing away of the storm, the winds had died down, and stillness enwrapped each wet leaf and damp tree trunk. As I headed out into the landscape the earth was still, yet I could sense the energy of morning building. The moss was all plumped up, wearing its green like a beacon. There were pops of bright green color everywhere. Moss-covered stones and downed trees dotted the shiny wet ground all around me, littered with last year’s leaves from this land’s beech, oak, maple, and birch trees.

The air was cool, and the fresh dampness moistened my skin. It was 6 am and all was quiet…

except for the stream.

She gurgled more strongly, rain water swelling her depths. Water bubbled and gurgled as it snaked along, weaving around stones and trees before plunging over steep drops and forming small cascading waterfalls, shaping sandy spits and mini sand bars as it went.

All along the edge of the stream grew young spring grasses, sphagnum moss, and tiny maple trees only 4 inches high - their shiny young red leaves glistening in the early morning light.

Carefully I stepped around unfolding fiddleheads and numerous green shoots and a whole host of plants that are familiar, but who’s names I don’t yet know. The miniature world beaconed, calling out to me to look closer.

A green carpet spread out filling the open expanse before me. Made up of small spade-shaped leaves open to the sky catching the early spring sunlight that can reach the forest floor at this time of year.

The leaves of the trees are starting to come out now.

At eye level the freshest, newest spring green belonged to the beech trees. Those that had full exposure to the sun were the ones whose leaves had emerged first. Their tender soft leaves were heavy and quenched with rain. At the tips of the leaves and along their branches, water droplets had formed, shimmering and sparkling, reflecting the world around me in miniature turned upside down.

The woodland stirs with birds, and the recent rains seem to have refined the sounds of their songs. The bird song is brighter and seems to sparkle.

Along with the bard owls, loons and wood thrush, I’ve noticed that one of the earliest birds to sing through the woodland here is the Winter Wren – a male twittering atop high places on the forest floor, calling out for a mate. This morning I stayed still long enough to catch a glimpse of him. Despite being a good distance away from me, his tiny vocal powerhouse commanded my attention as his song strung out in the early morning air. I read that Winter Wrens are drawn to hemlock forests and wood piles, both of which are prevalent here. How wonderful that a Winter Wren has chosen this place.

Standing there surrounded by young spring leaves, bright green moss, green carpeted ground cover under my feet all enshrined in shimmering bird song, gurgling water and rain drops, I witnessed the land cast off her cloak of nourishing darkness and dawn a new dress bejeweled with all that this spring woodland embodies.

It was now 7:30 am and the world was waking up, all vital and new.

What magical world awaits you?