Between Our Steps: Seasonal Colours
Columnist Cathy Hird shares her observations from the natural world in this reflection on the seasons changing.
COMMUNITY CONTRIBUTION
When I looked up from the rough sidewalk, there beside me was a crabapple in full bloom. Rose coloured petals covered every inch of every branch of this majestic tree. I touched the soft, delicate flowers. So beautiful.
I admit that it should have been buzzing with bees, but that morning the temperature was just four degrees, too cold for insects. Hopefully the afternoon would warm up enough that pollinators would arrive. On an even colder day, someone expressed the hope that the apple blossoms had been pollinated; she was worried frost would kill the flowers and any hope of fruit.
On my street, the crabapple blossoms are white with a touch of red accent. But here too the trees are covered with blossoms. The green leaves that are sprouting cannot be seen until you are right beside the trees. Given the profusion of blossoms, I wonder if the drought last summer and fall caused these trees to set more flower buds.
The daffodils have faded, but the tulips are coming. I miss the sun-bright yellow but the tulips provide a rainbow of colours. Some brilliant red. Many soft pinks. A soft yellow like dawn. A few white and red Canada tulips. Some majestic purple and others a purple that is almost black.
The magnolias, sometimes called tulip trees, have also bloomed their soft pink cup-shaped flowers. So have the lilacs, some the traditional old-fashioned purple, some a mix of purple and white, a few pink. These spread their scent to every passer-by.
There are white flowers on the trees by the river, some apple, some choke cherry, some I cannot tell from a distance. And one does not walk through the long grass to get close enough to identify the flowers because there is wild parsnip (aka hemlock) growing on this bank, and there are ticks. Lots of ticks.
Rain knocked the magnolia flowers around, but grasses appreciated the day long soaking. So did my garlic. The tips of the leaves were turning yellow even before the scapes form. I think the plants are a bit happier now.
And trees are turning green. The maple and birch leafed out almost overnight. The oaks are taking their time, but slowly greening up. The landscape is slowly looking like summer.
I am afraid that there is still brown. Not just the skeleton of last year’s burdock or the stems of last summer’s perennials. All the cedar trees have patches of brown. Most are substantially green, but on all there are some dead leaves. I watched arborists giving a hedge a light trim to remove some of that brown and encourage new growth. Now that we’ve had a soaking rain, new growth should come. But there are a few trees that are totally brown, waiting to be removed, reminders of how severe last years drought was.
And there is grey. Ash trees that thrived a few years ago are now stripped of leaves and even of bark. They stand, for now, grey reminders of the beauty that was.
Bumble bees are now buzzing among the blossoms, with their easy to recognize yellow and black. More in the afternoon, but some in the morning as the days warm up.
As May came to an end, the wind came up. Now there are soft white and pink petals on the side of the road and on lawns. Crabapples are shedding their flowers, getting ready to focus on fruit.
And the end of the month brought more purple. Alium. Wild flox. Even if the days are cooler than I wish, I now believe that summer is coming.
Thank you to sponsors of The Owen Sound Current Writers’ Fund, who make these community contributions possible. Contributions from the community do not necessarily reflect the opinions or beliefs of The Owen Sound Current and its editor or publisher.
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