Friday, March 25, 2011

Zephyrs of Spring

We breathe the same air that Hippocrates breathed. Is that a startling statement to you? A zephry is a light west wind; that wind today is causing the bare ground of our front yard to be littered with pear petals from our 2 trees (left). Nature's confetti, I imagine. But I'm not feeling like celebrating.

It's difficult for me to think of our air supply, our cucoon that holds the breath of life, to be contaminated with radioactive elements. Since the tsunami and aftermath, as we learn more about the '86 Chernobyl explosion and how we each have a piece of that radioactivity in our bodies, the enjoyment of the soft, spring breezes is more difficult. The gentle rains of spring that we hope for may bring down a "hard rain" of harmful particles. I, for one, will not be standing out in it, when it does rain here. I pray the core breach reported on today will not result in a severe release of contamination. We are one world and one people. And we share our world with myriads of living creatures.

Our pear trees have been visited by many species of pollinators. I did see honeybees, even though scientific observers have reported fewer bee numbers. Wasps of various sizes and types, flies, bumblebees and unnamed insects so important to our fruit crop came without my asking and did what comes naturally. They came for food in order to create new generations of their kind. If only humans were so graceful with their approach to life.

Also announcing the arrival of spring is one of our early wildflowers, called bloodroot. (right) I've loved how the few bulbs I'd planted have bloomed every year, and the seeds have washed downhill, so now I have an additional patch started, maybe 5 feet away, below some cedar slab edging I'd placed around my wild geraniums. And having more than one patch means fewer chances our dogs will wipe out an entire population.
The trillium (left) was struggling to come up since it was on a major dog path, so I cut some branches and placed them over the top of where I expected to see them emerge. Sure enough, a couple days later, I saw their little heads rising. This shot was taken last year, sans branches. They're shade lovers, so a few extra twigs over their heads won't be a problem. It'll be a few more days before the red color shows, and they'll be taller too.
May our puny efforts at beautification last beyond our lifetimes.


  1. May our puny efforts at beautification last beyond our lifetimes. That pretty much sums up one of the major segments of my philosophy of life.

    The other day (before the return of winter), Jo thought she'd found her first open trillium of the season, but when she viewed her photos, it was obvious that an insect's dining had "opened" the flower. Not a major event in the cycle of life, but not what a photographer wants to see on her monitor either.

  2. Many times after viewing the photo I just took, it's then I notice some tiny insect therein. thanks for the comment.

  3. Hi Sue! You have a terrific blog. We still don't have bloodroot up in Missouri, we're still in snowpack in much of the state. I tried looking up your photo of the potential sedge, but I couldn't find your page. Can you send me the photo and I can potentially identify it for you? allisonjv at yahoo dot com
    Keep up the great writing!