copyright © by P. R. Lowe
March 10, 2016
Early march. The Woodpeckers have begun their drumming. I have heard an occasional spring peeper and a few deep, low and lazy “kerrrrr ruuuuuumps” from which is no doubt a very large frog, by the lake. And I am grateful for his/her presence. I saw such a frog once, perched in the rushes at the water’s edge. S/he was just like the frogs I remember from childhood faerie-tales; a luminescent jade green, quite large with a deep yellow splodge at the side of the face. I was tempted to kiss that sweet frog, very tempted indeed, but opted to go on my way, lest I frightened it, secure in the knowledge that s/he was there at all.
I saw a copper head slither across the old bridge down the road and the birds seem to be traveling in pairs; a particular pair of Red – Bellied Peckers taking a keen interest in a knot hole in the old black Oak just outside my window. I look forward to sharing their company and general comings and goings as the season progresses.
Yesterday I heard a rustling coming from the vent over the kitchen cooking range — a nesting wren, I suspect. I will leave her be. She probably requires the nest more than I ever use that vent.
A pair of Geese have settled on the pond and the buttercups near the old grape vine are in full glory. Who knows how or why they ended up so far from the house, or any dwelling for that matter? Flowers just seem to do that. I will leave them be as well, for I far prefer them where they are; adding a wondrous splash of color to the otherwise gray-brown remains of the winter field that I walk past almost daily. And the baby rabbits, which will be darting about soon, can enjoy them as well.
It would appear that the old ground hog was spot-on. Well, of course, as s/he is perpetually tuned in to the great other, which some human-folk, it would seem have become numb to. Pity, for them.
Spring is seeping out all around the valley…and life is good; in spite of what some naysayers would have us believe.
“For every tiger gone, a new life rises up, for every river diminished an ocean is reborn.”
_from WALKING WITH TREES by P. R. Lowe