Antici . . . pation
When spring arrives late. Ugh. We expect weather to be knowable. And it is so much more knowable than it ever was. Living in Tornado Alley, I tip my cap to the meteorologists who have honed the science of prediction to the extent that protects us today. But we all expect April to be a spring month. Heck, we expect March to be spring. When spring arrives late - very late as it has this year - the anticipation is maddening. As a nature photographer I scratch around the local woods hungry for any sign of life. I usually start searching the forest floor for the tiny bloom called Harbinger of Spring in late February. Ha! No poking around the leaf litter in a light jacket this season. The bleak and frosty weather lingered, and lingered some more, allowing nothing green to reach the sunlight. I was still wearing winter gloves when the dogwood began to unfurl lacy boughs in the leafless woods - this year in concert with the last purple clouds of the red bud before they drop their blooms. The only good thing about a late spring around here is just that: the dogwood and the red bud seasons overlap as they can’t when spring reliably arrives in the middle of March. It’s a feast of color as delicious as a much anticipated meal prepared by a slow but loving cook. I call this photograph Spring Feast. Yes, I expect weather and seasons to be knowable. But sometimes Mother Nature knows best.
Copyright 2018 RC