I live near the Twin Cities of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, close to the
convergence of the Mississippi and Saint Croix rivers. We're blessed
with a variety of adjacent ecosystems: hardwood forest, oak savannah and
tall grass prairies. This past weekend the snow has finally melted from
all open areas, though the forest floor is still white with gritty
snow. We're entering the windy, dry time when the risk of grass fires
rises. Temperature can vary considerably and it is likely we will still
get a heavy snow. Minnesotans don't mind: it's bearable now because we
all know it will not persist but a few days.
This past winter came early, though I believe native plants had plenty
of opportunity to harden off. Lots of snow, which helped cover and
protect my tender shrubs and perennials. It also protected the voles,
those voracious mouse-like creatures who burrow under the snow. I lost
an entire row of pagoda dogwoods to the beasts.
Aside from the dogwoods, everything seemed to come through fine. My
hollies look fresh and green, the bamboo sprang back upright after the
snow melted, with green, intact leaves. And my perennials are poking
green fingers through the mulch. The crocus in the front lawn are
blooming in swaths of purple and yellow.
I am very pleased to say that I have NO diebackon any of my OGRs and
species roses. Every cane has swelling buds. My shrub roses dies above
the snowline, of course, but I already have inch-long growths from the
green stems that survived. I have ordered several more roses I hope to
plant in a few weeks. These are more native species I hope to add to the
back of the yard where things are wilder.
As a gardener I am sensitive to Nature's seasonal semaphores, and she is
telling me that spring is certainly here. The many lakes we have are
still covered in ice, but it's breaking up and the large remaining
patches are dark as currents surge from the lake bottoms. The birds have
returned. Robins sing away in the morning as do the larks and red-wing
blackbirds. This past weekend brought the wading birds back. Egrets and
herons criss-cross the sky in stately flight. Geese and ducks abound
(some never left!). Still to arrive are the insect eaters (swallows,
martins) and the hummingbirds. Oh, and I cannot forget the frogs and
toads. Each night I can year their trills and peeps in the nearby marsh.
They announce the earth and waters are awake to spring. Life is
accelerating.
Tree buds are swelling. The silver maples have been in bloom for over a
week now. Aspens will be soon. My red maple's buds have pushed open
their coverings, so I expect to see the forest in a red haze this
weekend. Understory plants are making the most of this time. Native
viburnums are leafing out. Same with prickly ash and mayapple. The
forest smells alive. It sounds alive with the twitter of little unseen
birds and the rush of the strong windd in the dancing treetops.
And humanity, that clumsy herd animal, has finally realized spring is
here. Suddenly, young families are promenading winter babies in bright
new stollers. Kids whir by in rollerblades and seniors march together in
stately pairs with hats prtecting their cold-sensitive pates.
And the snowbirds have arrived--giant Airstreams and Winnebagos crowd
the freeways. Grandma and Grandpa are back from Arizona!
--
John
"Pro meo lingua graeca est!"
--
John
"Pro meo lingua graeca est!"
*Humans* may send e-mail to me by removing the asterisk from my address.
Spamming robots need not apply.
Opinions expressed herein are my own and may not represent those of my employer.
John, what a lovely "ode to Spring". I printed it out to enjoy whenever I wish.
We sometimes forget, down here in Texas, what a truly magical time Spring is for
you northerners. Your post brought back the images and scents that I remember
from my younger years in Oregon. Thanks, you have enriched my day.
-Bren
Likewise here in NM. I do like that. Saw my first tiny little
rosebud yesterday, on the most massive and wildly rampant Dr. Huey
by the front porch. Say what you will about the good Doctor--for
a few weeks in the spring he is most impressive. Then I go at him
with a machete, am absolutely brutal. He certainly gets in his
shots though, in the tween times. We trade pain.
>... The birds have
>returned. Robins sing away in the morning as do the larks and red-wing
>blackbirds. This past weekend brought the wading birds back. Egrets and
>herons criss-cross the sky in stately flight. Geese and ducks abound
>(some never left!). Still to arrive are the insect eaters (swallows,
>martins) and the hummingbirds.
Saw my first hummer this morning, right after the sun came up.
Did a divebombing flyby of the feeder location, here and gone
in a flash. Been awhile, but no mistaking what I saw. Irrigation
has commenced again, and with it the somewhat strange sight of
ducks swimming out in the pasture. They love it--little lakes
popping up daily.
>...and the rush of the strong windd in the dancing treetops.
aiyai, the sandblasters. I see wind like this, I pity Okiehoma
and Kansans in about 12 hours. At's the greatest thing about a little
greenhouse, it's like stepping into another dimension. Just love
sitting in there watching the tomatoes germinate. Total calm.
Was a bit late this year.
>And the snowbirds have arrived--giant Airstreams and Winnebagos crowd
>the freeways. Grandma and Grandpa are back from Arizona!
Was funny hearing the dj's in Phoenix do the Winnebago watch, it's
like the morning traffic thing. I'll tell you what was really funny--
that was walking out in the backyard of where we stayed and picking
ripe grapefruit. What a concept. All I need are 6 good numbers
and I'll be growing grapefruit too.
mack
This was beautiful. Spring is magical in Texas, too, just not quite as
dramatic :) I grew up in Michigan, and from John's description, I think
Minnesotans must be more sedate. I remember when it would hit 50 or so
(probably not even that high) in the spring, people would start throwing
their clothes off.
I remember wearing my snowmobile suit (standard equipment in MI) and
wading to the busstop through waist-high snow. No picnic, you learn to
mentally block out the cold. I'll take the heat, thank you :) And for
the garden, I'm happy to have it raining cats & dogs right now. And a
bad hair day in Dallas is no laughing matter ;)
"
Beuatiful description! Thanks for sharing it. I'm looking forward to
visiting your area in May...Carlton College...is that near where you
are?
jrwoo...@mmm.com* (John Woodworth) wrote:
>It's early spring in eastern Minnesota and its about time!
>
>I live near the Twin Cities of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, close to the
>convergence of the Mississippi and Saint Croix rivers.
"
From the cities, Northfield is about 30 miles south on the interstate, then
another 7 miles on a secondary road. Carleton is another mile or so east of
that. It's a straight 25 miles on secondary road from Carleton to the
confluence of the Mississippi and St. Croix Rivers. I assume you will have
a car. It can be blastedly inconvenient to get to Carleton. (Almost as bad
as Bard...)
Southern Minnesota can be beautiful that time of year. Hopefully the wind
won't be blowing in from the turkey farm. The Malt-o-meal plant can also
emit powerful essences. I don't remember any roses on campus, but of course
they wouldn't be blooming yet anyway. There is a very long trail leading from
campus along the Cannon River. If you've got time, I was told St. Olaf's has
a nice campus (or was I told the campus was dull? Anyway St. Olaf's is
just on the other side of Northfield.) Northfield is where the James brothers
attempted their last bank heist. Had they really exhausted every bank in
Missouri and surrounding states?
Kay's sister went to Carleton. In addition to a reputation for academic
excellence, they always had an excellent cross country team. Some years
they competed for division III nationals.
--
Steven Cangemi
Feeling Minnesota
Living near the confluence of the Hudson River, and the somewhat bloated
Sawkill Creek. Currently sitting about 30 miles downstream, basking in
technology.
Yes, to the south as Steve so accurately described. May is a time of
light greens and yellows. If you can, get a car and drive the
Mississippi River (a little out of your way, to the east) around Winona
or Lake Pepin. The scenery there reminds me of Dutch landscape
paintings, especially on those days with misty sunsets and sunrises.
Don't forget a jacket. It can sn*w in May.
> Southern Minnesota can be beautiful that time of year. Hopefully the wind
> won't be blowing in from the turkey farm. The Malt-o-meal plant can also
> emit powerful essences. I don't remember any roses on campus, but of course
> they wouldn't be blooming yet anyway. There is a very long trail leading from
> campus along the Cannon River. If you've got time, I was told St. Olaf's has
> a nice campus (or was I told the campus was dull? Anyway St. Olaf's is
> just on the other side of Northfield.) Northfield is where the James brothers
> attempted their last bank heist. Had they really exhausted every bank in
> Missouri and surrounding states?
Northfield is charming and St. Olaf's has a beautiful campus. The
dullness is often attributed to the criticism the young Lutherans impose
on themselves. It's a Minnesota thing, too.
>
> --
> Steven Cangemi
> Feeling Minnesota
(a dreadful movie, almost as disturbing as "Fargo")
--
John
"Saving face, I fear, is to have two of them."
-- Nicholas Negroponte