It’s been a cool, windy, and very wet spring. Almost like the soggy boggy lowlands I hail from.
All that water is a boon. Blackflies threatened to show early but are holding off while the night temps dip below 40. The bog is full of water, giving the geese and ducks ample privacy to nest and rear their young.
Beavers are busily constructing dams with more water to dam behind them. Come to think of it, they might not be happy about this bonanza. They are set to work by the sound of rushing water and there’s been plenty of that. No taking breaks for grooming in the sun. I wonder if they ever get resentful of their relentless taskmaster?
Plants are singing with happiness. No need to go into hiding from sun and drought. Grass is reaching for the sky and everyone is sending out shoots and buds and getting ready to blossom at the earliest opportunity.
Mosses rule the woods.
Woman and dog roam bog and forest, sniffing and sniffing in the cool air that carries every scent five-fold, off on side ventures to check out this and that, listening to the woodpecker call his mate, checking out fairy bowers and tiny gnome work stations, abandoned at our approach but soon back for some serious work and play in advance of midsummer lolling.
One side venture entailed a small expedition to see how the woods were coming along in cool and misty Sedgwick Maine. There moss is always boss, but, most of Maine was in drought right along with us.
We rush back home from trip and walk with a fresh, cool, damp spring in our step, ready to tackle work and chores stretching from dawn till dusk: planting the garden, transplanting this and that, renovation projects, and in general planting seeds and tending to the tender growth of myriad projects.
No more drought. As of last week, both Maine and Massachusetts are done with it sez the U.S. Drought Monitor [Thank you, U. of Nebraska ].
Just add water and stir.