Winter hangs on stubbornly this year. Yet, in spite of lingering snow falls and temps hovering in the low 30s, the natural world slowly awakens. During the night I heard a flock of tundra swans call to each other as they migrated north. Robins carol and cardinals sing in the early morning darkness. Later in the day, dark-eyed juncos trill as they search the sunny exposed parts of our garden for last year’s seeds. The tiny birds have been daily visitors since October and soon will depart for their summer home in Canada.
Dark-eyed juncos (Junco hyemalis) will soon migrate to their breeding territories in Canada.
Ivory-petaled snowdrops are ready to bloom.The first Siberian squill bulbs poked through the cold, wet soil of our back garden at the same time as the tiny, sharp leaves of iris. Silver maple buds glow rosy and round in the late afternoon sunlight and the soft, furry catkins of quaking aspen have emerged.
A snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) blossoms in a sunny spot beneath a spruce tree.
Quaking aspen (Populus tremuloides) flowers begin to emerge.
I want this slow showing of spring to speed up, but it should not be hurried. Soon enough I will want the season to slow down — it all happens in such a rush once it gains momentum in May, and hurdles toward blossoming, fruiting, and autumn once again. I have learned that, as with all of life’s special times, it is better to wait for, notice and welcome each change; to savor the whole unfolding of new life.
Crocus chrysanthus ‘ladykiller’ usually bloom in April.
Bur oaks (Quercus macrocarpa) shine against a cloudless October sky.
The fleeting season of gold and blue arrived in central Minnesota last week. The golden hues of bitternut hickory, bur oak, aspen and ash glow against a sky the color of a newly opened morning glory — a shade unique to autumn. Along the Snake River, the steely blue-gray wings of a great blue heron swoop over the sparkling water.
A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) swoops over the Snake River in east central Minnesota.
Heavenly blue (Ipomea purpurea) morning glories continue to bloom in October.
Closer to the ground, the last of the powder-blue bottle gentians and asters — some with center disks as bold as the sun — bloom among the grasses. Fallen aspen leaves accent walkways, and the heart-shaped leaves of the carrion flower vine wind their tendrils skyward. In a few days, this lovely combination will dampen down to more muted tones, the gentle softness that insulates the earth for winter’s palette of black and white.
Bottle gentian blooms (Gentiana andrewsii) turn dark and dry out as their seeds mature.
Asters (Symphyotrichum novi-belgii) provide nectar to these hoverflies, or syrphids, and many other autumn insects.
Quaking aspen leaves (Populus tremuloides) and moss decorate a walkway at our cabin.
The heart-shaped leaves of the carrion flower vine (Smilax herbacea) add light and color to the October woods.