Spring's Ache

 

 "Spring won't et me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again."

Gustav Mahler

Outside my window just now a tiny Anna's Hummingbird flits about the cedar hedge. Tree and hedges sway in the wind. I know it's a chilly wind in spite of the bright sunshine for I was outside thinking I might garden this morning. I think I'll wait until later. A glorious week of warmth and sunny skies is in our forecast, and I couldn't be happier. 

Hendersons Shooting Stars (dodecatheon hendersonii) bloom in a naturalized lawn we pass on our evening walk. They look as though they are ready to take off into the wild blue yonder. 

In the woods just a bit further along, Fawn Lilies (erythronium oregonum) look like stars facing downwards. Most of the ones I see are white, but there are pink and yellow varieties, as well. 

Taking a photo like this requires crouching low to the ground, and I use the tilt feature on my camera to view it. 

Both the shooting star and the fawn lily are native to North America. The shooting star occurs naturally on southern Vancouver Island, the only place it's found in Canada. 

"Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"

Robin Williams

In my own garden this morning there are many promises being made. Lilacs and columbines form tight buds, blueberries will soon flower, and irrepressible mint is making a great come back from dormancy. Lemon Balm, strawberries, cornflowers and more are bursting with life. Soon there will be an explosion!

"Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn't seem to be the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful - wonderful. It's the first thing I ever saw that couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here" - she put one hand on her breast - "it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?"

said by Anne in L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables

I go out of my way to see this tree on my walks. It's awash with swoon-worthy blooms. This is its high season, lush with soft white and barely pink petals. I can't get enough of it. Like Anne above, it makes my heart ache with its beauty. 

"The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing...

For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have not yet visited." 

C. S. Lewis (The Weight of Glory)

This ache of beauty, this longing, reminds me that we are spiritual beings with a desire for something beyond ourselves - for God. It reminds me that that I am merely human. 

One last prunus branch reaching up in evening light to the sky. It's truly a wonderful world, complex and full of brokenness, but utterly magical. Spring magic is some of the very best there is. 

What kind of promises is spring making in your corner? 

April Showers Bring April Flowers!

"April was just beginning...And everyone was silent, deep in thought, and everything around was welcoming, young, so near - the trees, the sky, even the moon - and one wanted to think it would always be so." (Anton Chekhov)

The air is soft in late afternoon or early evening. Perfect for walking. Plenty of grey skies and rain mean that everything is green, green, green, a thousand shades of green, and the blossoms are popping out everywhere. Henderson Shooting Stars (Dodecatheon hendersonii) grown on thin stems that seem barely strong enough to hold up the flowers. When I looked up the Latin name today I learned that Shooting Stars are in the primula family. Do they grow in your corner of the globe?

A magnificent trio of prunus trees grows in one garden along a nearby street. The ground beneath is covered in soft pale petals and more petals drift downwards in the slightest breeze. I was caught by their beauty and spent a fair bit of time admiring the trees as I approached. 

Today is Palm Sunday and I wonder, should the Triumphal Entry of Christ have occurred in our city, if we might have waved cherry blossom branches in place of palms to praise the Lord.

We spent some time with friends this weekend, visiting Poet's Cove on Pender Island. I went for a walk with one friend, in steady rain. We returned quite drenched, just in time to see the clouds dissipate and the sky turn blue. There is a Great Blue Heron that I've seen on several visits who likes to fish along the rocky shore facing the dock. He's a handsome fellow, don't you think, with the varying shades of blue and the soft breast feathers that seem to float in the air? 

We watched him stretch out his neck and stand, motionless and intent, and then, quick as a flash, duck his beak into the water and come up with a fish which he promptly swallowed. He then retracted his neck, turned, and picked his way along the rocks to shore.

When we visit Poet's Cove we reserve a cottage with a kitchen so that we can prepare our own food. And we eat well. One couple prepared a dinner with barbecued beer can chicken, and a carrot orzo side dish. Another couple provided a salad and I brought along some sourdough bread that we baked there. Dessert was a lemon tart, a small dish of cold blackberry soup, and white chocolate hazelnut pralines. We are thankful for good friends with whom we laugh and sometimes cry, share delicious food, and wonderful conversation ranging from gardening to politics to religion to travel. We might not agree on everything, and that's just fine. 

Tulips are beginning to bloom here and there, and these pretty ones are on the deck at Poet's Cove. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf. 

Sweet Spring Sunday

I awaken in the morning to birdsong outside my window. Drawing back the curtains, I see blue sky, with a hint of frost in the deep angles on the roofs of my neighbours. Clear, cold skies overnight signify a warmer day ahead.

After morning church, we head downtown. First, to buy a new waterproof jacket for me, then to Fisherman's Wharf for our first al fresco meal of the year - fish tacos eaten in the sunshine while watching sailboat masts sway at their slips. 

After lunch we walk along the Inner Harbour. A heron, framed by reflections from a kayak on a float house, slowly turns his head back and forth.

The new Johnson Street bridge is in place and in use. The old blue bridge is partially dismantled and the remainder will disappear in a few weeks. I am not fond of the new bridge, but perhaps it will grow on me.

We wander by the Legislature, and I admire the copper domes against the blue sky. The golden figure of Captain George Vancouver, a British naval officer who charted many of the waters around the islands in the late 18th century, tops the main dome. 

In the gardens around the government buildings, the blowsy tulips are almost finished, but still so pretty.

We walk back to our car under arches of ruffled pink petals. Hundreds of these trees grow downtown to be admired by locals and tourists alike. Home again, I am replete with sunshine. Such a beautiful day.

Thank you for your kind comments on my last post. Yes, blue days come and we get through them. I'm glad that I finished my latest batch of report cards, and spent some time with friends, and walked in the sunshine this weekend. 

Linking with Maggie of Normandy Life for Mosaic Monday. 

On a Sunday in Spring

Charles Dickens knew spring well. He wrote, in Great Expectations "It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade." This was our weekend. Beautiful sunshine, but chilly air and when it blew, a biting wind. 

In the grounds of Government House all kinds of flowers are blooming in clumps and beds among the pathways and rocks. My camera worked overtime, finding colour and texture everywhere. 

The sun played peek-a-boo, but when it shone, how the light glowed among the petals.  

Not all is in bloom. The stark architecture of Garry Oaks reminds me that spring unfolds gradually.

Hellebores bloomed prolifically in the Lieutenant Governor's garden. I met her, Judith Guichon, walking with her dog, and we exchanged a smiling hello.

Warm yellow beehives stand off the beaten path. I studied them for a few moments and was happy to see a goodly number of bees flying about.

Today, Sunday, was warm and sunny. We switched to Daylight Savings Time last night. I think the combination of the mellow sunshine and the time change had us feeling a wee bit tired. Family came for Sunday supper and our children confessed to the same feelings. I'm not a fan of the time switch - choose one or the other and stick with it is my opinion. 

So many varieties of hellebores, and all of them beautiful. I've not had much success in keeping my plants alive and wonder what I'm doing wrong. Too dry in the summer? I'll be doing some research.

I'll be away from my blog for a few weeks, chaperoning a group of Grade 12 students who are going to a needy area in Mexico for a service project. We leave early Wednesday morning, in time to catch the first ferry at 7 am. By the time I return, I expect more spring growth to have burst out. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

A Weekend in Vancouver

Cherry trees arch across the street where our youngest daughter and her husband live in Vancouver. The trees are some of those donated in 1958 by the Japanese Consul, Muneo Tanabe, as "an eternal memory of good friendship between our two nations." 

The trees are aging. Ashley told us of a neighbour who, as she parked her car on the street, heard a crashing sound behind her and saw that a tree limb large enough to span the road, had fallen just behind her car. 

These days, traffic on these streets is busier as many people come to photograph the trees. They bloom all over the city, but the ones in this area are a bit later and attract those who just can't get enough of the Prunus genus. I know I was out there with my camera snapping away. 

The City regulations allow for backyard chickens. We got to meet Gala, Fuji (rather feisty), McIntosh, and Granny Smith. They live in a large and airy coop in the back garden. I helped Ashley do some weeding on Saturday morning and we were sure to save the good weed greens, such as dandelions and chickweed) as a treat for the hens.

The hens lay around 5 eggs per week each. Each hen's eggs are a slightly different colour. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast of fresh eggs, bacon, pastries from a local bakery, and sliced tomatoes.

A weekend goes by so very fast. While Ashley and I weeded, Owen and Tim went to the lumber yard for supplies to repair the deck. We walked, just a few blocks, to Le Marché St. George for a lunch of crepes and/or quiche, and the spiciest chai tea I've ever tasted. It was too spicy for me, so Tim got to drink two bowls. The tiny restaurant was jam-packed, so, in spite of the chilly rain, we ate outdoors, on the sidewalk, à la française. Cozy blankets and pillows provided by the restaurant kept us warm.

We crossed on the ferry Sunday afternoon, in time for dinner with the families who live on this side of the water. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life.  

Cherry Blossoms

Changeable. Clouds scud across the sky and tree tops toss their heads. Bright sunshine alternates with showers of spattering rain. And all over town blossoms are whipped off the trees to twirl a confetti dance.

Airy pink lines the streets. In some pockets of town the blossoms are nearly finished. In others they are just beginning. Who can resist a cherry tree in blossom?

Not me. The wind tore at our scarves and hair, but I was determined to get some cherry tree blossom photos.

Home now. A cup of tea and some photo editing. A lovely Sunlit Sunday.

Linking to Sunlit Sunday hosted by Karen of My Little Home and Garden.