A Conversation about the return of Springtime

Okay. It's finally here. Spring started officially by the calendar on March 20. But it's not official at my house until the following happens:

I see or, more likely, hear a red winged blackbird; 

the peepers in the woods make a racket at bedtime;   

the bluebird family starts house hunting; 

and at least one crocus has smiled at me. 

It's here. The morning isn't yet as noisy with bird conversations as I'd like, but there are mixed flocks of starlings and cowbirds and finches and assorted others. I know starlings and cowbirds are “bad guys”, but they do have their charms, regardless. And we'll never get rid of them, anyway.

It's here. The geese are flying north. And south, and east and west. Most of the migrators have arrived, and the over-winterers are welcoming them. Hence the flying in every direction. I am surrounded by water sources, and the geese are preparing their nests. Soon they'll be making the golfers cranky as they graze on all those lovely greens. Their counterparts at grazing in flocks on golf courses, the turkeys, will soon enough be bringing the babies to forage various roughs and holes.

Among the big birds, the hawks have been courting, and probably nest building, for weeks.            Their call is a lonely one, but it really indicates that they have already paired up and the nagging has begun. The other morning I had the typical Catskill experience of observing the new snow on the nearby mountaintop while admiring the first flight of the season by a blue heron. While sometimes the herons linger over a mild winter, they are more often migrants due to their dependence on open water, and I just love the way they soar on those huge wings, their long stilt legs trailing behind.

We had a seventy degree day this week. The “minor” bulbs exploded into bloom. By the way, I resent that the bulb industry calls them “minor.” They're just smart enough to open when there's less competition from the big, gaudy bulbs, like tulips and daffodils.

Indoors I have an insurgency, too. Even though they have plenty of artificial light, the house plants and the “houseguest plants” are all craning for a view outside. I need to turn the pots twice as often to try to keep the stems vertical. The Amaryllis in particular keep stretching and bending their flower stems toward any available window. Anything with a tendency to make a vine is sending out sly little stems. The “houseguest plants” are most boisterous. They know they belong outdoors but can't read a thermometer. It has become time to start cuttings. Geraniums, begonias and fuchsia are my targets. There is no such thing in my world as too much of any of these. There is such a thing as too little space in my house.

Other reliable affirmations of spring are provided by my neighbors. Matty is fly fishing. Ted is walking daily again. Don is zipping past on his bike. The golf course has posted the help wanted sign. Yup, it's official.