But then, things move on, don’t they? What you learn first on the farm, and what is continually impressed on you in a way that is somehow not so much a part of city life, is the progress of the seasons. Of course, living in town you still know what time of year it is. If for no other reason, you know it because the images in store windows tell you! The Valentines are scarcely off the shelves when the shamrocks and Easter bunnies appear. It must be spring, then.
Here, we have a greater intimacy with the seasons. We watch for wet and dry, cold and heat, planting times, mating times, hatching times, haying times. And just now, even though it’s been a rough few weeks in the stock yard, we note it is an emerging time in the landscape. I spotted the mama rabbit darting into the brush. The crows are ferrying huge sticks from the roadside bramble to the tops of trees.
Frondescent: [fr. L. frondere, to put forth leaves] springing into leaf…
One of my favorite spring views is this hedgerow. Alas, it does not belong to me, but I look for it every spring on my drives into town. I expect there is not much fruit in this tangle of plum trees and underbrush, but fruit is not the value of a hedgerow. It blocks wind in winter, it buffers heat in summer, it holds moisture in the shade of the thicket, it keeps soil in place. And just look beneath those withy trees. Look at the hiding places for deer, hawks, rabbits, voles, skunks, and small children on a wander.
Smell those old trunks and the roots grappling in the dirt. See the twiggy light within, and the narrow tracks of animal passings. Listen to the flowers opening in the spring chill.
(Click either of these pictures for a wider view.)
Wish I had a hedgerow, too!