On days as today I wish I was a writer of prose and verse so I could describe the beauty and the awe I see and feel when walking on my dirt road.
The Shad trees are starting to drop petals off their blossoms. Delicate slivers of the palest pink lie on the dirt road. In the woods not too far distant from the road, the wood floor is covered in painted Trilliums, white with deep red centers. On the very edge of the road, wild oats, shooting stars, wild lily of the valley and foam flowers in the palest of cream colors, grow in the very poorest of soil. Colts foot, almost gone by now, sends up one last stalk topped with a bright yellow flower, defiant in it's last days. Violets, yellow dog tooth and purple join in the burst of wild beauty while the tiny sweet white violet scents the air with it's delicate perfume.
Deeper in the woods you can see the white flowers of hobblebush set against the many shades of spring green. The trees have dropped their own flowers and replaced them with small perfectly formed leaves that will unfurl and grow in the coming days. And if you venture off the road and a little further into the woods you may see Jack-in-the-pulpits and the first leaves of a wild orchid known as a Lady Slipper.
The air is becoming heavy with the promise of rain and around me I can hear the various songs and cries of birds. A great blue Heron takes off with amazing ease from the beaver pond when it hears my tread upon the road. Red wing blackbirds dart in front of me racing from the wooded side of the road to the wetlands surrounding the pond. In the distance I can hear the call of the Pilated Woodpecker. Ducks take off in startled surprise from the creek as I walk down the road.
As I come closer to home, swallows dart about the field across from my property. A walk up my own driveway and I am greeted by dandelions standing at attention by the edge of the driveway. One section of our lawn looks like an early snowfall has come because of the many tiny sweet white violets that grow there (the flowers are only about 1/4'' across). Boldly looking out from other sections of lawn are Johnny Jump-ups, purple violets, large white violets with purple eyes and reddish violets. I am not sure where they all came from but they are welcome to inhabit my lawn.
My pear tree is ready to bloom and the Bishop's Cap which dwells by it's roots is putting on a show of it quaint little red and white flowers shaped like a bishop's cap, what else?
What days of glory are these. Being able to watch a world awake from it's cold winter slumber. To see life renewed.To be reminded that in a world filled with such ugliness there can by so much beauty, like on the side of a dirt road.
The Shad trees are starting to drop petals off their blossoms. Delicate slivers of the palest pink lie on the dirt road. In the woods not too far distant from the road, the wood floor is covered in painted Trilliums, white with deep red centers. On the very edge of the road, wild oats, shooting stars, wild lily of the valley and foam flowers in the palest of cream colors, grow in the very poorest of soil. Colts foot, almost gone by now, sends up one last stalk topped with a bright yellow flower, defiant in it's last days. Violets, yellow dog tooth and purple join in the burst of wild beauty while the tiny sweet white violet scents the air with it's delicate perfume.
Deeper in the woods you can see the white flowers of hobblebush set against the many shades of spring green. The trees have dropped their own flowers and replaced them with small perfectly formed leaves that will unfurl and grow in the coming days. And if you venture off the road and a little further into the woods you may see Jack-in-the-pulpits and the first leaves of a wild orchid known as a Lady Slipper.
The air is becoming heavy with the promise of rain and around me I can hear the various songs and cries of birds. A great blue Heron takes off with amazing ease from the beaver pond when it hears my tread upon the road. Red wing blackbirds dart in front of me racing from the wooded side of the road to the wetlands surrounding the pond. In the distance I can hear the call of the Pilated Woodpecker. Ducks take off in startled surprise from the creek as I walk down the road.
As I come closer to home, swallows dart about the field across from my property. A walk up my own driveway and I am greeted by dandelions standing at attention by the edge of the driveway. One section of our lawn looks like an early snowfall has come because of the many tiny sweet white violets that grow there (the flowers are only about 1/4'' across). Boldly looking out from other sections of lawn are Johnny Jump-ups, purple violets, large white violets with purple eyes and reddish violets. I am not sure where they all came from but they are welcome to inhabit my lawn.
My pear tree is ready to bloom and the Bishop's Cap which dwells by it's roots is putting on a show of it quaint little red and white flowers shaped like a bishop's cap, what else?
What days of glory are these. Being able to watch a world awake from it's cold winter slumber. To see life renewed.To be reminded that in a world filled with such ugliness there can by so much beauty, like on the side of a dirt road.
