Spring Signs Roundup

Last weekend, Maisie's snowy backyard frisbee field was shrinking by the hour and a small pond of meltwater lapped at the garage door. (Which I’ll happily take in trade for the new back door setup, with no lake outside it and no resulting waterfall down the basement steps – hurrah!) I took the picture above midway through the week. Today, there’s no snow at all left in the yard. The pond is gone, too, though it left plenty of mud in its wake.

When the snow first started melting, no hardened Michigander was ready to concede that winter was really over. Now everyone seems to agree that, while it might still snow, it’ll be just a brief wintry episode in a season that’s definitely deserving of the title spring.

On our walks and runs lately, Maisie's been seeking out the last pristine patches of snow and rolling with abandon, getting her fill of snow baths while she still can. But on Friday morning we went for a run and she splashed into the creek for the first time this year – it’s that strange short window when swimming and snow-rolling coexist, at least for the canines. On the same run, not only did I leave my hat and mittens home, but I pushed my sleeves up past my elbows and soaked in sunshine on skin that hasn't been exposed in months.

Here’s the rundown of other first-of-spring phenology to date:

• Last Sunday, the resident chipmunk in the rock pile emerged from hibernation. I only spotted the cheeky little guy for the first time yesterday, but Maisie has been obsessed all week with snuffling and circling and scaling the pile, a favorite hobby she abandoned last fall. Plenty of proof even without the sighting.
  
• The chickadees are singing their spring-time song and I’ve been waking up to the cheerful warbling of cardinals out my window.
• The goldfinches at the feeder are looking more golden every day.
  
• I noticed a drift of yellow crocuses in somebody’s side yard. They’re way ahead of the crowd, but a sign of what’s to come.
• The tiniest tufty sprouts of green are showing in the weary, brown, snow-squashed winter grass. (Though not in my mud-pit of a backyard.)
• Yesterday morning, walking our usual loop, I heard a male red-winged blackbird’s distinctive and oh-so-definitive song (a week earlier than last year). Sure enough, he was perched at the tip-top of a tree in the marsh - just arrived, I presume, and proclaiming it to the world.
• I also noted a crow flying by with a beakful of sticks, clearly in nesting mode.
• A pile of seed catalogs, a box full of last year’s seeds, and a list-in-progress are strewn all over my dining room table.
• I’ve been seized by the seasonal deep-cleaning urge. When my dad's traveling home improvement show came to town last weekend, we put up shelves in the garage and the basement, which has spurred some fits of organizing. I’ve also mopped floors, vacuumed up drifts of dog hair, hauled the whole winter’s worth of recyclables to the drop-off site, taken my car to the car wash, sorted an accumulation of piles in the basement, and started washing windows. Tasks for which I had no motivation a week ago.
  
• About the same time that I realized sunrise was coming sooner and daylight lingering longer, I also realized that I still have a heap of winter stores in the freezer and squirreled away in the basement. Time to make room for fresh! Wrinkly apples and frozen cranberries became a big batch of cranberry-applesauce for last Friday's potluck at the farm; I made cabbage-and-potato soup and roasted beet salad for Saturday dinner with my visiting folks; this Friday’s Stone Soup chili included zucchini, corn, and tomatoes from the freezer. Still in the queue: strawberries, blueberries, kale, tomato sauce, the last of the squash, and still more frozen cabbage and sprouting 'taters. Let me know when you're coming for dinner!