While the transition from Summer to Autumn is fairly gradual (at least here in God’s Country), Spring seems to hammer us. One day (yesterday) it’s snowing; today, rivulets are flowing down the valleys of the roof and the snow from yesterday is gone except where there is shade. This is the Thaw season.
Maple leaves that have fallen on the snow are creating beautiful prints of decomposition, and they operate as little solar collectors that melt the snow around them faster than the surrounding ice.
The beech (genus Fagus) is one of my favorite Thaw trees. Beeches keep their leaves until the new leaves push them off the tree in the Spring. The result is a beautiful stand-alone tree scattered throughout the forests. In the shade of the majestic red and white oaks and huge maples, these beeches tremble in the slightest breeze and if you get close enough you hear the cracking and rustling of the leaves kissing off each other.
The dogwoods are turning red now, and the willows turning a lovely greenish-yellow. The Thaw is here, and it’s irreversible. Nothing can stop the sun from giving us a few extra minutes a day of its warmth and light. Despite Winter’s desperate and ultimately futile attempts at asserting its power, Winter must admit its reign is over. It’s a Mubarek, a Qaddafi. Game over.
All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.
If Saint Francis lived in Wisconsin, he may have written:
How white and beautiful are you, Cousin Snow,
Who cover the earth while She sleeps
Until Brother Sun lifts your blanket to make way for New Life.
Or something like that.
Thaw is here.
Respectfully submitted,
Canoelover