Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Walking Softly

or Quiescence

Even the wind chimes are only murmuring today, an aimless tune that starts and stops, starts and stops, starts.  Occasionally a housefinch sings in duet, but mostly it is busy watching me from the corner of the roof, bright-eyed, curious.  Now and then it offers a pithy chirp—a word of advice, perhaps, the kind of thing that would be thought wise by other finches.

This is the first afternoon that has been warm enough to sit out on the patio.  Since the garden faces east it is shaded once the sun crosses the roof-line and generally too cool for comfort.  Today, however, even the shadows are pleasant.  The weather is so springlike that I expect all the other lives in the garden to have quickened with the crocuses, but it's early in the year and late in the day, and except for the finch and the wind chimes, the garden is quiet. 

In this warmth it seems odd not to hear the buzz of honey- and bumblebees, the click of the occasional locust, the trill of hummingbird wings; not to see ants trudging in ragged lines, hoverflies feeding at feverfew and yarrow, cabbage moths making their drunken progress (if progress it can be called) in the breeze.

But the garden is still hushed, quiescent.  Only the crocuses have come fully to life, and even they walk softly over winter.  They respect its dead; they barely disturb the fallen leaves as they grow.  Their colors are gentle with the past. 

Spring has wakened but not yet roused—this is the calm of somnolence, the stillness before dawn, the pause between one breath and the next.

A small spider floats from a tree branch on its silken tether and drifts silently to the ground.

18 comments:

  1. What a wonderfully calm entry. I shall be going to our garden for the weekend, and I cannot wait to have exactly the sort of moment that this entry embodies.

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  2. That was time out, time to be, time to remember the big, good reason why we garden. Amongst your great essays, this, is one of the best!

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  3. I really enjoyed you descriptive writing, it made me feel the spring-like weather in the air. Your crocuses are so pretty coming up through the leaves.

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  4. Søren, thank you - it was such a gentle, gentle day. Best wishes for a weekend of deep enjoyment.

    Diana, thank you so much! I was so glad to have a blog that day, just to be able to share.

    Cheers, GWGT - we all all reveling in our crocuses here in the northern hemisphere, aren't we? :)

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  5. I love your finds Stacy, and your photos are so dramatic! thanks for the picks on mine.

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  6. I love the way you worded this! It really does tell the 'feel' of the garden. As you said "the stillness before dawn". Sometimes we are too rushed for summer to be here we forget to enjoy the slow awakening of spring.

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  7. Stacy, What beautiful, poetic and inspiring writing! I love imaging crocus having respect for the dead.

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  8. Ah, I can almost imagine sitting in the garden with you. Lovely post.

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  9. We are not nearly warm enough to sit outside and we would get wet if we did, but we do have some flowers blooming already.

    Thank you for sharing such a beautiful scene. I could feel the garden in your words.

    Blessings,

    Elaine

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  10. Stacy what meditative thoughts of spring....I can feel the longing and hope with the pictures of the crocuses ...lovely

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  11. Stacy, I just discovered your blog and have become an instant fan. I do a "Garden Blog of the Month" feature on my blog, Jean's Garden, where I review newly discovered garden blogs that I think my readers might enjoy. Your blog is one of two that I have highlighted in my March post, which just went up this afternoon. Your blog will also be featured on my sidebar (under "Garden Blogs of the Month") throughout the month. -Jean

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  12. Oh a beautiful post, and fantastic writing (I teach college English so I hope that means something to you!). I did see a honeybee the other day, maybe visiting the few crocus I have, so some may be out. Soon, perhaps too soon, the silence will end and we'll lose ourselves again in the garden--for better and worse.

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  13. Andrea, thank you. I've so much enjoyed discovering a little slice of your world.

    HolleyGarden, I dislike winter enough that I am always in a hurry for summer, but you're right - the slow awakening of spring is a beautiful thing on its own. I was glad to have that day to remember just to *enjoy.*

    Carol, Hanni, and Donna, thank you so much!

    Elaine, getting wet is not a problem we have out here very often... :) Glad you have some flowers blooming, at least!

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  14. Jean, I'm so touched and honored - thank you! One of the most amazing things I've experienced since joining Blotanical is how open and generous and supportive other garden bloggers can be. I'd heard that was the case with bloggers in general but have found it to be extra-true in the Blotanical world. Thank you again.

    Ah, Benjamin, thank you - I do appreciate it. Still no honeybees here, yet, but the "waterbugs" (i.e., giant outdoor cockroaches) are out in spades. I *guess* that's a sign of progress... Here's to losing ourselves in the garden, and all that that entails.

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  15. I love to see this awakening of spring through your lovely photos.

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  16. Autumn Belle, thank you - it is a pleasure to share.

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  17. Loving your pictures and appreciate your honest thoughts. I will definitely be staying tuned to what you continue to add! Thanks!

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  18. Gabrielle, thank you, and thank you for visiting!

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