s applauds my bike-riding to the garage, to pick up my car
after he has spent the afternoon
inspecting the new
coming from the area under the trunk that I know to be the location of
now he shouts to me as I pull into the garage on my bike, so good to see people biking! he shouts because of his old ears
I shout back yes!
I say thatespecially this time of year its extra special to bike because I get to experience all of the spring smells
never thought of that he says loudly
I am thinking of the way here:
and the apple
and the ornamental cherry
and the magnolia
and the indian restaurant
and the pinks
and the reds,
and the recent rain on pavement
and someone grilling in their backyard
and then that moment of old garbage
on the corner of Hawley and route 9
on the way home from the forest on sunday, so many spring ephemerals!! , driving past all of the blooming shrubs and trees on the sides of the road we start shouting out-loud from the point of view of Spring —
be your best self, bloom! lots of colors! shine! give it all you got! go go go!
as if your life depends on it! all at once! no holding back! get out there! be brilliant! all the colors! all the time! go go !
we are laughing in between shouting because its all true, because there’s a lot to do – homework, farm work, school work, because of all of the other tangled up feelings, because of heartache because it is the time of unfolding but what if I don’t want to unfold right now
the great uncovering
the snow disappears in just a few days revealing
underneath, still unkempt
as if someone had opened up the curtains in the bedroom and the sun rushed in, exposing its tousled hair before it had time to get out of bed.
mud season m says when I tell him how three of us had to push the truck out of a rut in the garden, and that’s what all the mud splatter is on my jeans mud season when i get out early the next morning because the ground is still morning frozen to drive the van out back to unload the logs mud season when I notice the drag of mud from my boot into the elementary school hallway guilty after taking my lunch break walking around outside without a coat, or even a hat, mud season because 50 degrees feels like 75, and I can hear the red winged blackbirds purr growl trill their song from the clump of elms and oaks at the edge of the river.
I check up on the cocoon of a cecropia moth that I taped to a stick, propped inside a mesh wire box on my counter,
due date may 21s I wrote on the side of the box in black sharpie, just so that everyone would know when we were expecting.
cecropia moths Hyalophora cecropia , named for Cecrops, king of Attica, are the largest moth native to north America, with wingspans of six inches or more. Their cocoons are large, brown and leathery looking with a golden shiny hue if you catch it in a certain light. c says that the moth will emerge from the top of the cocoon. I am waiting.
cecropia moths don’t have working mouth parts or a digestive system. they live for about 2 weeks. they mate and lay eggs. from photographs i can tell the female from the male by the differences in their antennae. the male moth has bigger broader antennae. they are so sensitive to the scent of the female moth that they can sense her pheromones from up to a mile away.
when we free the garlic from the too-dense matt of winter mulch so it has enough room to breathe
spring air and extend its fingers and toes, and so do I now, both of us me and garlic sticking out our noses just a little bit farther to smell
walking home sloshing through puddles in dark green boots, seeing shades of light green dark green middle green poking out from all of the corners of the street and sidewalk and a pink child’s sunhat laying in the middle of the road
getting rained on.
the pink halo that I see from far away around a tree, and come to find is actually hundreds, thousands? of red flower buds blooming
on the maple