The Khousa Dogwoods (Cornus Khousa) have been spectacular along the coast this year, where Spring has been on the cool and rainy side. I don’t remember a year with blossoms so magnificent and the trees looking so healthy. There’s a particularly nice stretch heading west out of the center of Madison, where a number of stately colonials provide a backdrop.
This hasn’t so much been the case with other dogwoods; I notice the pink and reddish flowered ones (Cherokee Brave/Cherokee Princess – Cornus Florida) have hardly flowered at all, and have long since gone by.
Three years ago, we picked up this young 4-1 apple tree (four types of apples grafted on a single root stock), and have had perhaps 15-20 apple starts each year, though the harvest was much less. In each of those years, there didn’t seem to be many bees around when the tree was blossoming.
This year, I thought I might help out with the pollination, but shortly after I went out with a q-tip, this bumblebee came by, and put me to shame. (S)he probably visited about thirty blossoms in the first couple of minutes, and didn’t linger on any one for much longer than five seconds. In looking at close-ups later, I saw the evolutionary wisdom of the natural world: pollen scattered over nearly every part of her body. So … as long as there are bees …
This brings to mind Plato’s Allegory of the Caves, expounded some 2500 years ago, and a staple of any Philosophy 101 class since. There’s a good overview here. Ah, the nature of Reality …
The March full moon is commonly referred to as the Worm Moon, for the earthworms who tend to make their way to the surface around this time. And lo and behold, I saw a robin out in our garden today, tugging on something.
Down here near the coast of CT, the robins tend to stay around all winter. I’ve noticed that they save the red holly berries until January, and then a whole flock will clean out the shrubs over a few days time. They won’t touch them earlier in the winter, and the same goes for other red berries in our neighborhood.
It was interesting to be out after dark on the river. Though I was only about a hundred yards away from the nearest homes, I felt a bit uneasy, like I was out in a wilderness far away from civilization. There were coyotes howling some distance away, and the intermittent calls of waterfowl settling in for the night. But mostly it was quiet, and in the end peaceful, with an occasional lap of waves on the shore.
We’re now in the back end of winter here in northern New England, and signs of spring are beginning to emerge. One of my favorites is a more expansive dusk; a month ago, it came and went quickly, now it just lingers, not wanting to miss a thing.
