I have had my own personal signs of spring since I was a teenager. The first of these was hearing the spring peeper frogs. When I heard their mating calls, I knew spring was nigh.
Not long after I heard the first spring peepers, I would hear the Plover's killdeer, killdeer as they ran along the ground. In fact, we always called them Killdeers rather than Plovers. They nest on the ground. I can remember walks with my Mom when I was a very young child. We would see a Killdeer walking away from us dragging one wing along the ground as though it were injured. After we had followed along for a way, the bird's wing would magically heal and it would fly away. Mom explained it was acting hurt to lead us (or any predator) away from its nest. Even when we looked for the nest it was difficult to see - the eggs looked so much like speckled stones. Others may listen and look for Robins as harbingers of spring; I listen for the Killdeer.
The wearin' o' the green even extends to the willow trees - another sure sign of Spring. They are one of the earliest trees to show green and I love the smell of willow trees. (I took this picture yesterday.)
Whether it is a sign of global warming or just one of those years of a warmer than usual winter, even the daffodils are getting ready to bloom. One of my all time favourite poems is William Wordsworth's I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales
and hills,
When all at once I saw a
crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the
trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the
breeze.
Continuous as the stars that
shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending
line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a
glance,
Tossing their heads in
sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced;
but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in
glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little
thought
What wealth the show to me had
brought:
For oft, when on my couch I
lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward
eye
Which is the bliss of
solitude;
And then my heart with
pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I have a niece whose maiden name is Wadsworth. I wonder if she went back far enough on her family tree if her ancestors were once Wordsworth. Might she be related to the famous poet whose poem, also known as The Daffodils, was first published in 1807?
While driving from Mount Vernon to Colonial Williamsburg thirty some years ago, I had a personal dancing with the daffodils experience when I saw entire fields of wild daffodils in Gloucester County, Virginia. Until then the largest plantings I had seen were on an acreage on the north edge of Johnston where they were being naturalized.
Frogs, plovers, willows or a host of daffodils fluttering and dancing in the breeze - they are all sure signs of spring.
I spotted a volunteer daffodil blooming in the back yard just this morning! I just love their cheeriness.
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