I'm glad I had covered the bleeding hearts and peonies, but unfortunately some of the other flowers got zapped. I was looking forward to the first lilacs, but I may have to wait until next year. The potatoes had grown a few inches, but the frost turned them black. I have faith that the spuds will send up new sprouted leaves in a few days.
By mid-morning the sun had warmed the green surroundings, and a hummingbird hovered among the bluebells. I was glad to see he had survived the hard frost, and hoped that others of his kind were well and happy this sunny spring morning. Two half-grown gray squirrels sat on the bird feeder, a reminder that there are new mouths to feed. Just before sunset, three young bunnies ventured into the yard to nibble on the fresh green clover.
I love these cool early spring evenings—the time, just before dark, when the night sounds come from hidden places. Two whip-poor-wills sang at twilight time, their songs seeming to echo back and forth from their spots two hundred yards apart. The first tree frog sang his bird-like song from the branches of a box elder tree near the creek. The rhythmic peeping calls of the spring peepers drifted down the valley. Then came a song I hear each spring, but not usually in this valley. It was the soft too, too, too, too of a tiny saw-whet owl. I listened closely for the call of a second little owl, but none came. With luck the saw-whet will call in a lady owl before dawn.
Several folks have reported seeing baby ducks in the past few days. It is sweet to see a parade of cute, fuzzy little ducklings following close behind their mama. Sunday morning I noticed seven following their mother across the neighbor's yard. For every step she took, they took four. The sight of her passing a bed of pretty tulips still lingers in my mind.
Soon the hen pheasants and turkeys will be leading their broods of little chicks on a constant search for insects. Unlike the ducklings, these little chicks will grow flight feathers first, and will be able to fly before they are half grown.
There's a new splash of color in the lush green underbrush: the shocking blue of a male Indigo bunting. The shy, sparrow-sized bunting stays hidden, but his lively song can be heard all summer: "Sweet, sweet-chew chew!"
I try to relax in spring, and let nature set the pace, but it's a time to be busy. My romance with spring continues, as it's a time of endless discovery and new beginnings.
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