Project Homestead

spring creeps in (under cover of snow)

Despite the snow that still surrounds us and looms large in sad plow piles in driveways everywhere, Spring is here. The sap is rising in the maples* (and the kiddos). The first red-winged black birds just broke into song. And everyone from happy hens to little boys can't wait to stretch out their toes and scratch a bit in the FINALLY thawing ground. 

While soaking up the balmy 40-degree sunshine, I spent a few minutes taking pictures of my various hillsides and sleepy garden plots to help me site future cold frames, bulb and fruit tree sites and micro-climates that might best nurture cold-hardy greens. It surprises me to no end how the complex patterns of sunshine, snowfall and tree cover can influence the ground below. Our land has several aspects, all of which are waking up at different rates.

I observed one clear constant: The chance to dig a bit, if only with chicken claws and Tonka trucks, is a fine, welcome start. There's life under there. And we've all got a primal urge to find it.

* Stay tuned for a first-hand report of the tastiest holiday in these parts: Maine Maple Sunday. Y-u-m. 

snow day

It's the first week of March, and the snow is still coming. And coming. And coming here in Maine. It's spectacular—in the forest, on the marsh, on the boys' eyelashes. It's a heavy blanket, protecting roots from Spring's fickle freezes and thaws. And it's a burden, for trees like this one on the edge of the marsh. It must have given way under the stress of one gust too many. Now, it's a bittersweet sight to behold, frosted with an even coat of powdered sugar. When the weather warms, it will be a living bridge over a thin stream. Later, a fine found stack of hardwood, perhaps. 

Until then, we'll just enjoy the views. This stream winds its way through the marsh, reminding us that the ground is rustling under the covers, after all. Spring is coming, I swear.