Petals and Portals

Crocuses! Spotted today just down the block.

In related news: Last week, a text message blinked onto my phone from Portland, Oregon, where an early spring is in full swing. "Just saw my first iris blooming!" wrote my friend Charyl.

I love the sharing of spring signs across state lines. And I fully appreciate the idea of that iris from afar. I'm not, however, ready to see one blooming on my block just yet. It's a funny thing that may not make sense to those of you in springier climes...but in these parts, spring is something to be earned. Irises must be worked up to. It starts with a long frozen winter that gives way to slush and mud, proceeds slowly to the tiniest of green sprouts, and ramps up from there. Here, we're still at the sprout stage. And here is where my internal clock was set. Meanwhile, I know my former neighbor feels equally at ease back home in Portland, on a very different timetable.

Even so, I do wish I could still see her house from my front door.

The obvious solution is this: I need a portal in my back fence. Thousands of miles, a three hour time difference, the gap between icy mud puddles and blooming irises – all would be magically erased when the door swooshed open. On one side, my yard in Michigan. On the other, Portland. Or Duluth, or Boston, or the greater DC metropolis, or any of the various other places where my good friends go about their lives. There'd be a little keypad where I could dial in the destination, or maybe one of those intercoms like the ones for calling apartment residents from the front door so they can buzz you in. We could all live in our home habitats and still be neighbors. I'd enjoy your irises and, more importantly, your company, without giving up the requisite month of mud that precedes a glorious explosion of green in the north country.

I suppose this blog is a sort of portal already. It only opens now and then, and only reveals whatever snippets I get around to taking pictures of and writing about. But it does transport you here for a brief visit. Of course, it'd be so much better if I could see you, too, and invite you in to catch up over a cup of tea. Alas. Maybe with Web 3.0.

In the meantime, I have an idea. Let's swing the portal open the other way for the season. A springtime special.

Here's the plan. I'm dialing you up right now. If you buzz me in and the portal swooshes open and offers a glimpse of your life at this moment, as spring unfolds where you live, what will I see?

1. Choose a scene to share.
2. Take a picture or describe it in words or, better yet, do both.
   
3. Email it to me. (hofmann dot kate AT gmail dot com)
4. Then I'll post it up here.
   

Fun, yes? I'm envisioning a series of little windows opening to reveal buds swelling, ferns unfurling, flowers opening, and leaves popping out in bursts of shiny-new green. To start, a few views to share with you from my side of the fence:

A sunlit dog in the hole she just dug, delighted that her dirt pile is exposed again for post-frisbee lounging.And - hooray! - the very first tender green shoots in the garden.

SorrelTarragonChives

I love the thought of spring washing over the continent like a wave, touching each of you in turn. The portal's open - I do hope you will please play along!