The little English daisies are blooming in the lawn at Riley
Park. The blossoms have short white petals, often tinged with pink around a
circle of short yellow stamens. As I walked around the park I noticed a child
had made an assemblage of ephemeral art with twigs, pine cones and daisy
blossoms they’d plucked from the lawn. I also noticed a discarded item of
winter clothing—a little orange toddler parka. It had been thrown aside, as if
spring itself had thrown away winter. Time for me to shed my long winter jacket
and toque. Time to wear something shorter, lighter, giving me more range of
movement to bend down and take photos of ephemeral art. Time to wear a hat with
a brim to shade my eyes from the brilliant sun. Time to put on 50 spf sunscreen.
A man in an orange safety vest came and swept the collection
of daisies and other objects away with his boot. Can’t have people tripping
over the art, I guess. He picked up the jacket and put it in the playground so
the owner could come back and find it there. In that moment I felt so happy for
the child who had lost the jacket. I imagined that they were experiencing the
transition to warmer weather, and feeling the sun on their skin. They wouldn’t
fit into that jacket next winter anyway. This little human was like an insect,
shedding its cocoon to emerge as a larger creature in the next stage of its
life. I tried to convince myself I should do the same. I mean I’m not going to
leave my coat on the sidewalk, but it does need to go back in the closet for
next year.
My heart is gradually opening up to spring. I am breaking
out of winter’s sheltering cocoon. My heart feels cautious, as if a bit frost
bitten. Afraid we might have another cold snap like we did a few weeks
ago. But I am so hungry to welcome
spring into my body and soul. I am ravenous for it. Two days ago I needed to
get out and be in spring. I picked up some of the fuzzy grey calyxes that drop
from the magnolia flowers as they open on Ontario Street, south of King Edward
Ave. I want to use them to make art. As a prairie person, it’s taken me a while
to befriend the magnolias, since they appeared quite exotic and gaudy to me.
But now I love their ostentatious blossoms and soft, furry buds. Most petals are
pink or white, but occasionally one sees a yellow-blossomed magnolia too. Kneeling
and bending to pick up the velvet treasure feels good, but I know my muscles
will ache tomorrow. Too much time spent in a cocoon, writing, drawing and
dreaming. Time to emerge and start making and experiencing the seasons deep in
my bones.
One day last week I saw a juvenile hawk watch crows making a
nest. It was making a curious kekking sound and not being surreptitious in the
least. It eventually left with one worrying crow chasing after it. A few days
later, I saw two crows mating on a branch next to their handiwork. The bees
have been emerging as the temperatures warm. So far I’ve seen several queen
bumble bees, and a very early male mason bee. The first mining bees and sweat
bees are slowly starting to appear. I watch them come in as observations on the
NBSBC Bee Tracker. The crocuses pop up in lawns, the heather blooms, and the
osoberry and red-flowering currant open. The clusters of bright yellow Oregon
grape flowers are just starting to open, and the satin flowers, lungwort and
blue-eyed Mary are blooming as well. Remembering my experience from last spring
I knew I needed to go to Queen Elizabeth Park to see the insect action in the pussy
willows. The bumble bees were doing their orientation flights up just above the
blooming willows. I stood under them, feeling them fly circles over and around
me. I took it in as a blessing. How many generations of Bombus queens have
performed this ritual here every spring? Do people realize how important
willows are in our ecosystems?
A velvety mourning cloak butterfly floated over the willows
toward the sun. In the distance a woodpecker was hammering away somewhere on a
dead tree and a male Anna’s hummingbird was doing it’s “Skreep!” territorial
dive--sounds made by its wings whistling in sharp descent. I lay on the grass
for a bit, breathing in the fresh air and a small movement on the ground caught
my eyes. I saw a queen fuzzy-horned bumble bee emerging from her hibernaculum
in the dead leaves under the willows. What a marvelous thing to witness! The
great awakening! She lifted up and few off before I could take a photo,
circling up and above the willows again and again to orient herself to spring
and its infinite possibilities, including the dangers that all queen bees face
as they seek out a place to make their nest close to an abundant and reliable
source of pesticide free nectar and pollen. I wish her well. My heart is full
of hope for her and for us delicate humans, daring to hope for all the beauty
spring has to offer our hearts, filling us with hope once again.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find
some blooming pussywillows. Immerse yourself in the activity of the bees, birds
and butterflies and convince your heart to open to the awe-inspiring beauty of
spring.
