Wednesday, April 22, 2020

A Change...

"Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the papers and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what today's weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region; see him sail along in the joy and pride of his power till he gets to New England, and then - see his tail drop. He doesn't know what the weather is going to be like in New England. He can't any more tell than he can tell how many Presidents of the United States there's going to be next year. Well, he mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something about like this: Probable nor'-east to sou'-west winds, varying to the southard and westard and eastard and points between; high and low barometer, swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his wandering mind, to cover accidents: 'But it is possible that the program may be wholly changed in the meantime.' 
Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it, you are certain there is going to be plenty of weather."
                                                                                                                                ~Mark Twain

What a difference a day can make in Maine! Yesterday I was able to work in the gardens for the first time, with these lovelies to cheer me...




This morning we woke up to a fresh 6 inches of snow and a bitter cold wind! 

 


Saturday, April 18, 2020

The First Crocuses!

Down in my solitude under the snow,
Where nothing cheering can reach me;
Here, without light to see how to grow,
I’ll trust to nature to teach me.


I will not despair–nor be idle, nor frown,
Locked in so gloomy a dwelling;
My leaves shall run up, and my roots shall run down,
While the bud in my bosom is swelling.


Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up with my little bright head,
And all will be joyful to see me.


Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
As rays of the sun from their focus;
I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,
A happy and beautiful Crocus!


Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower,
This little lesson may borrow,
Patient today, through its gloomiest hour,
We come out the brighter tomorrow.
                                                    ~H. F. Gould


Friday, April 10, 2020

An April Day

'Tis the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird
In the wind-shaken elm or the maple is heard;
For green meadow-grasses wide levels of snow,
And blowing of drifts where the crocus should blow;


Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white,      
On south-sloping brooksides should smile in the light,
O’er the cold winter-beds of their late-waking roots
The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots;


And, longing for light, under wind-driven heaps,
Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps,      
Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers,
With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!


We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south!
For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth;
For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God,    
Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod!


Up our long river-valley, for days, have not ceased
The wail and the shriek of the bitter northeast,
Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and snow,
All the way from the land of the wild Esquimau,      
Until all our dreams of the land of the blest,
Like that red hunter’s, turn to the sunny southwest.


O soul of the spring-time, its light and its breath,
Bring warmth to this coldness, bring life to this death;
Renew the great miracle; let us behold      
The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled,
And Nature, like Lazarus, rise, as of old!


Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has lain,
Revive with the warmth and the brightness again,
And in blooming of flower and budding of tree      
The symbols and types of our destiny see;
The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole,
And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the soul!
                                                                           ~John Greenleaf Whittier

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Ice Jams on the Aroostook

"Where Aroostook, far-heard, seems to sob as he goes
Groping down to the sea 'neath his mountainous snows..."
                                                          ~Lowell























 

Monday, April 6, 2020

Spring's Progress

’Tis a month before the month of May, 
And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
                                                                    ~Coleridge

Slowly but surely! Compare this picture from March 23rd...


...with this from today! 


Panoramic view...


How is spring progressing in your neck of the woods? 😊