Springtime in Canada

...or at least here on the Lower Mainland of the West Coast. 

While I admit that the tulips are store-bought (though raised on Vancouver Island), the forsythia brancches are ones I brought in from outside. 

Today marks the Vernal Equinox, when things are in a kind of balance, as the sun is above the equator, making the hours of daylight and darkness equal--the day we refer to as the first official day of spring. 

After this winter, spring is more than welcome. Snow. Cold. Disruptive news. Balance sounds like something that's very badly needed. 

Springing ahead to spring

Last weekend saw us springing ahead with the clock, shifting to Daylight Saving Time. This weekend, with the weather warming up so nicely, has seen me springing ahead with some of the clean-up chores out in the yard. 

My big project for the year is always my blackberry patch. Knowing what I do about how many trees and vines won't be bearing fruit this summer has made it seem all the more important to look after my little berry patch. 

Although some of the berries I leave on it may serve as a food source for birds in the winter, mostly what lingers can only be deemed a mess. 

Every spring those tangled branches leaning on the fence get a severe haircut--at least that's how I like to think of it--getting prettied up for the season. 

And even as I chop at the dead and stringy branches, I can't help but think of the other aspects of spring cleaning this project always brings to mind. Tossing any item in the fridge (usually a condiment) that hasn't been used, and moving along clothes or books I no longer need (an ongoing, year-round quest). 

Pruning also always reminds me of the editing process: cutting out the dead wood (or words that don't need to be there), and then trying to shape the plant (or the essay or poem) into a shape where it will be most productive and effective. 

The bin full of branches still needs to go into the container the recycling truck will pick up this week, a service I am always grateful for--at least as grateful as I will be for the bounty of daily berries in summer. 

Springin' along

Some, I'm sure, would swear that seeing a robin serves as the first sign of spring. I'm pretty sure my mother was in that camp. 

Others may contend that it's the job of the crocus to make this announcement.

As for me, it's seeing a thicket of snowdrops that tells me spring is on its way. 

With the hard cold (for here) that we've had, the possibility of a new season feels very welcome. And with yesterday's observance of the Lunar New Year, the timing seems just right. Let there be dragons (so long as they're gentle, kind ones). 

Now, if only it would warm up a little more so it would also feel more as if spring is truly
near at hand. 

Spring-ish

Although the official equinox was yesterday, it's today that I'm observing the first full day of spring here on the west coast. 

I'm also noting that today is World Poetry Day, an observance that I suppose most of the world manages to miss. 

This year, as part of that observance (it's hard to call much of anything a 'celebration' during these dark days), there's a YouTube channel that's featuring the work of quite a few poets who've been writing in support of the brave people of Ukraine. 

It's been a sad time here, with two darling friends dying last week -- one day after the other. Neither of them came as a big surprise, as both had major health issues which meant their time was running low, but sad nonetheless, as both are friends I will greatly miss. 

So maybe that's why my otherwise bright-eyed daffodil appears to be a little droopier than might be expected. 

I can only trust that brighter days are coming soon -- not only here, but also for the rest of the world. 

A banner for spring

I was going to post an item about empty shelves in the supermarket, but those aren't anything new, and they're mostly a cause for anxiety.

Instead, because this year brings us one of the earliest official beginnings of spring, a piece of new outdoor art is flying -- both here and on our house.

The banner was a Christmas gift from a dear friend, and today seemed like the right day to hang it by the door. And yes, the message of peace to all who enter is true and from the heart, even though these days there aren't many who are entering.

We remain healthy (touch wood) and we're taking the order to self-isolate very seriously. Spring break or not, it's not a time for gathering in groups. A time for catching up on missed tv series, reading books, and making phone calls to friends we can't visit with.

And, of course, wanting peace.

Brave

That's what I thought when I encountered this little primrose, its white petals couched in the white of a surprise snowfall.

Here I'd thought the groundhog would have been right -- after all, I don't think he saw any shadow the other day. And isn't that supposed to mean that winter is over?

I'm just hoping that next time I look at this little flower it'll be surrounded by green.

What is real??

Although Easter might seem like an appropriate time to quote what's likely the most famous line from The Velveteen Rabbit, that's not the answer to today's question.

The item in question is definitely real, though when I first saw it, I thought it was a stone, not what it actually is -- a tiny egg. My brass swans look as though they're feeling proud, and my pie bird crow might well be cawing a celebratory squawk.

When I found the egg, it was lying on some grass near the back door. I'm still not sure what kind of egg it is -- what bird might have laid it -- but I couldn't spot anyone's nest nearby. All I could think of as a possible source for the egg is the garden basket still up from last summer -- the one that seems to be trying its best to start making strawberries again. And it's true, I have seen little birds alighting there, as if they're looking for a spot to build a nest.


But the egg isn't the only 'found gift' that came to me this weekend. I also encountered some real live bunnies who looked like they were getting ready to make a batch of baby bunnies.

Not only is today what many observe as Easter Monday, it's Earth Day as well -- and also the day Elizabeth May, leader of Canada's Green Party, is getting married. I wasn't invited, though a friend of mine was -- and she'll be wearing a tiny feathered hat that I lent her.

So, although I won't be there, I'm hoping my little hat will come home with a few stories it's found for me.

Let there be...

...light, of course. Yes, bring on the light. 

I usually think of Winter Solstice as being the time to look for the return of the light, but this year, I'm thinking about it with the return of spring. 

This year's Vernal Equinox, tomorrow afternoon at 1:58 (PDT), will be only a few hours away from another of those super-moons we've been seeing -- this one apparently the last for 2019. 

What qualifies the full moon as 'super' is not how big it looks (face it, the moon is always the same size, though light amplification can change how it appears), but its brightness. So yes, more light will shine on us -- the light of spring and of the super-bright full moon. 

Already it seems extra bright. Both last night and the night before, the moonlight poked around the corner of the bedroom curtains and woke me. But no, waking because the moon came to say hello, I don't mind. 

On Saturday we attended the opening night of an art exhibit that's all about light, Luminescence, this year celebrating its fourth year. 

The range of exhibits was amazing, from a 'waterfall of light' that could serve as a wonderful colour-changing light fixture to a steam-punk octopus with an oversize light bulb for a head. There was a chandelier made of empty medicine bottles and a rainbow parade of animals in Lucite that seemed to be marching past, like the phases of evolution. 

Because it was the opening night, there was even a special performance by a man who twirled blazing batons and lit up the faces of everyone watching, enthralled, in the back yard of the gallery. 

But the showpiece that brought people in from the street was no doubt the metal-and-neon 'dragon' who, when his lever was pulled, 'breathed' fire. 

And with all that light -- especially with the sunlight that makes me feel that spring is here -- I even managed to wash most of the windows, getting rid of the wintry layer of grime. So now that beautiful light can make its way inside too. 

Fleeting glimpses

Where the Vernal Equinox was yesterday, today is the first full day of spring -- and it feels like it. It's bright and sunny, and there's a light breeze that carries the sweet scent of blossoms. It's even quite warm outside (as long as you're in the sun).

But it's a day that brings a small chill along with it, as it marks one month since the death of a friend who lived in the neighbourhood.

She'd always seemed frail, but maybe in the way that thin, pretty blonde women can appear to me. She embodied that lovely fragility we once associated with old-fashioned china dolls.

There hasn't been a service -- not even an announcement -- so I suppose I have some unresolved feelings surrounding her death, especially as I was the one on the phone with the 9-1-1 person.

I probably won't forget what it was like to be standing in the road when the firetruck, lights flashing,  sirened its way to a stop in front of me. Nor will I forget the confusion of several conversations going on at once, as the struggle to get her to treatment went on.

There's more that I remember, but that's something I still need to hold in my heart, a heart that still gets a knot when I think of her. It feels something like that heart of knotty tree roots enclosing the batch of crocuses in the photo.

Someone too young, someone to remember.

On again off again spring

This past week has seen temps going up and down, from T-shirt afternoons to bundled-up as if ready for snow mornings.

The sun has meant I've managed to get myself outside more. I've pruned a friend's blackberries, trimmed some butterfly bushes and rhododendrons, and hacked the dead bits off of some of our roses too.

While the snowdrops are to be expected this time of year (and are out, in their usual proliferation), the daffs and tulips are up a good hand span, looking green and fresh -- a welcome sight. And the little treasure above (a cyclamen, something I generally overwater and kill) said hello to me from a friend's garden patch -- a friend who, unlike me, was a dedicated and skilled gardener.

Sadly, the meaning of the cyclamen is resignation and goodbye.

Even though that gardener friend has been gone a couple of years now, I don't suppose I'll ever be quite ready for a final goodbye -- especially when I see such lovely signs of life from her.

Almost...

The April rains, traditionally reputed to bring May flowers, have nearly lived up to expectations. Although the daffodils have long since come and been, the tulips are still standing and even the stalwart daisies have started asserting themselves. As for the lilac, you can see that it's still in the 'almost' category, just about ready to pop open, with that wonderful once-a-year scent.

But the garden isn't the only place where 'almost' is the operative word. It's almost time for our provincial election, one we can only hope will bring about a more positive direction for people here.

My happiest 'almost' is the fact that my new book about Amelia Earhart is now at the printer and is expected to be ready for take-off later this month. One of the most exciting parts of that particular 'almost' is the fact that I will be launching the book at Harbour Grace in Newfoundland -- the same town where Amelia took off for her history-making transatlantic solo across the Atlantic -- and on May 20th, exactly 85 years after her departure from there.

Bananas for spring!

It's finally rounded the corner and turned into spring. I've been outside pruning -- the blackberries and rasps stand tidier than ever before. The quince and plum trees look ready to bloom. I even snipped the dead bits off grapevine and trimmed the little peach sprawled against the wall of the house. The only ones I left alone were the fig trees, spoilsports that they seem to be, so rarely bearing fruit.

Earlier this week I managed a trip to two of our coastal islands -- always a good way to get into the swing of feeling the seasons change.

Nope, I'm not foolin' (nor would my birth buddy, Debbie Reynolds have joked) when I say I go bananas for spring.

Not quite there yet

These daffodils serve as a good example of how I'm feeling ''not quite there yet" on a number of fronts. Even though I bought them a week ago, they've only barely begun to open -- and in truth, I'm not confident that all the buds will make it.

Oddly, the same thing occurred with quite a few of the bulbs I tried forcing this year. Specifically, it was members of the narcissus family, including the usually reliable 'paper white' variety' that disappointed. They formed what looked like normal buds, but they simply didn't open. And it wasn't just the set of bulbs I'd potted, but ones that came as a gift from a friend -- a friend who's a professional gardener.

But flowers aren't the only case of my feeling "not quite there."

Tomorrow is International Women's Day, and I'm seeing far too many instances of women being nowhere near "there" especially if 'there' can be defined as a place of equality.

I'm thinking specifically of recent court cases where sexual assault charges were not taken seriously, where the judge ruled that being passed out drunk could still signal 'consent'. If there can be any good news in this, it's the fact that the decision has raised an outcry and that today an appeal has been made.

As for wage inequity or glass ceilings, I'm not even going there. Sadly, that's not news.

And maybe I'd feel less edgy about all of this if it weren't for the fact that even spring seems to be on hold. Yep, instead of daffs outside, there's still more snow.

Silent Spring?

Not meaning to reference Rachel Carson's prescient book, Silent Spring, just offering a comment on how 'silent' this blog has been. No particular reason (other than 'life' getting in the way), though I am a bit sad over all the days for special events/observances that I've missed.

There was World Poetry Day on March 21st, International Water Day on the 22nd, and of course, one of our earliest ever dates for the Vernal Equinox, March 19th. Oddly, spring's arrival in this part of the world coincided with the end of this year's Earth Hour observance -- an observance that I managed to miss doing properly this year. I turned down a few lights, but didn't do it right. Just another of many observances I haven't properly heeded this spring.

But today is Easter. As you'll see from the green pot above, I accidentally 'pre-dyed' this year's dozen eggs. I like to use cloth in the pot, as I've found it keeps the eggs from bumping into each other (and cracking). Only this year's tea towel seems to have still had too much of its own colouring in it, as the eggs (which were brown, farm ones to start with) came out bearing a lovely green tinge.

As a result, the ones from the 'Bunny' all turned out in their own new muted shades for the celebration.

If you observe Easter, I hope it is happy. If you're more into celebrating the season with its many changes, enjoy that. By the way, I understand that any sweet treats you happen to eat today are calorie-free -- or so my pal the Bunny told me.

Observations gleaned while pruning a blackberry thicket

On a beautiful day, it is important to find meaningful work to accomplish outdoors. A winter-tangled blackberry hedge provides such diversion. Such a job is perfect, as it requires just enough concentration and judgement to allow the mind to focus on other matters and takes up enough time to generate a number of observations.

Notice how the brackets where last year’s berries grew look remarkably like gnarled hands. Express gratitude to them for last September’s bounty.

Consider following the lead of golfer Tommy Gainey by wearing two gloves, not just one on the ‘pulling hand’. Add one for the ‘pruning’ hand too. It may be more difficult wielding the secateurs, but there is little doubt that there will be fewer scratches on the exposed hand and, as a result, less blood.

Note the differences between dead and living branches. Colour is the obvious marker: green as opposed to brown. But living branches also have much bigger thorns, though the thorns on the dead ones seem sharper, pointier as if they have withdrawn into a harder, tougher form of themselves. The biggest difference though is their weight. The dead ones, some of which are completely dehydrated, are oh so much lighter than the nourished (wet) living ones.

Next time, wear a baseball hat. The thorny branches seemed to enjoy grabbing me by the hair. At one stage, I considered using the pruners to chop my way out. Fortunately, with patience as my guide, my messy braid emerged intact.

Think about writing a letter to the City, requesting a larger ‘green bin’ container, as this one is now full to its 360-litre capacity brim. Luckily, pickup is every week.

Stand back and admire the important task of the season’s first prune.

Meditate on the sour-sweet flavour of blackberries on the tongue. Think of all those jars of jam that will result from autumn's crop. 

No groundhogs in sight

Just this robin and a few of his friends, digging around for worms today. They looked like a more reliable sign of spring than any rodenty shadowplay.

But hearing that 'the Donald' didn't win in Iowa also feels like a sign of better things ahead.

Oddly, there are two bi-elections taking place today right here in B.C. and there's hardly been a peep about either of those.

Maybe I'll be happy with just the happy-sounding peeps of the birds.

Plus and minus

A day of positives and negatives equals what -- not a zero -- life isn't math. Although zeroes are what happened on Jeopardy the other night. Apparently, it was only the second time that all three contestants finished up with a total of zero dollars. Bye bye was the negative message they got. Out the door with them.

And I'm not sure how today's negatives and positives weigh out to any kind of balance.

A positive is the fact that it's Australia Day, though by the time this is getting posted, the fireworks displays will long be over. Yet even that day of celebration by many is observed as a Day of Mourning by that country's Aboriginal people.

An announcement about the Doomsday Clock also spelled out worse news today, as the clock has again moved closer to midnight.

Yet today while I was out walking on errands, I encountered a Peace rose in bloom. Not far from it, I found another bunch of those happy little flowers I've been seeing everywhere, those early harbingers of spring, the snow drops.

With those in mind, I'm counting this as a plus kind of day.

Foresty yin and yang

Spring. The vernal equinox. Ostara. The death of winter, the beginnings of things that grow.

I suppose some will find the image on this post not to their liking. It certainly presented me with something I'd never seen before -- a slug waltzing past the still-fresh corpse of a bird, The odd pairing seemed fitting to the cycle of change this day represents.

And really, when could a slug ever hope to pass that near a bird? A reminder that it's time to reach for dreams.

Pruning time

Yet again, it's time for the first of the haircuts I give to my blackberries. This round of pruning, first of the season, is always the most drastic. It's the one where I cut away all the frizzy brown clumps of dried-out berries and get rid of branches that have died. It's also where I get to chop out all the straggly bits that wouldn't produce much in the way of fruit anyway.

Strange, I suppose, that a job like this -- which involves avoiding some very nasty thorns -- could be one that brings me such pleasure. Even though this year's prune took three separate afternoons, I know that it was worth it. After all, who doesn't like blackberry pie or jam?

Yesterday (when I finished this job) was not only International Women's Day, but also the day we had to set our clocks for Daylight Saving Time, My son, liberated soul that he is, pointed out that once again, women were getting the short end of the stick -- that even the day dedicated to celebrating us had been pruned by an hour -- sort of the way our wages still don't measure up to those of men.

But, you might be wondering, what's with the chain? No symbolism around women and their roles, I promise. It's just there (along with what looks like a dancer's barre) to keep those prickly branches in line later in the season when their branches are weighted down with all that luscious fruit.

Flowers for Charlie

These are my small attempts at bringing spring into the house. Tulips which I bought for myself -- a small extravagance to offset the dark week that has just passed. Interesting, I think, that they get their name from the cloth used to wrap a turban. And pink ones are supposed to indicate 'caring'.

The paper-white narcissus companions have joined the tulips, though they're in their own vase. These are the ones that I forced early in December. They bloomed, but then started sagging under the weight of their blossoms. So I cut their stems and put them into water. Their sweet fragrance fills me with hope that spring is near, as do the bulbs poking up their tips in the garden.

Today, Charlie Hebdo has published a new edition, this time depicting an image of Muhammad under a banner of forgiveness. In the image, he is proclaiming (as we all have been saying), Je suis Charlie,

More than ever, the words that guided the French Revolution -- liberté, égalité, fraternité -- are echoing through the streets of Paris, and all around the world. It's time to erase our differences, or at least thoughts of fighting over them.