wrote:
snip
Here, in the woods, at the same time, the more demure but aptly named
spring beauties and the slandered skunk cabbage start the parade,
followed closely by marsh marigold, bloodroot, trout lilies,
Dutchman's breeches anemones, rues and a host of others that make hay
while the sun shines, before the dense canopy of burgeoning leaves
shuts out the light and cuts off their all too brief glory. Like the
citified bulbs, they disappear, leaves and all, before the spring is
over and summer begins its shameless annual display of excess.
This is the season of neck pains and stumbling. While walking slowly
and admiring the flora, a peep, a twitter or a chirp is heard
overhead. The head snaps up and the binoculars follow. Feet are left
to find their own way unattended. They aren't good at it. The source
of the sound is found and identified.....or not.....and the head goes
down. The pattern repeats itself over and over and over. By the end
of the day, whiplash is understood to be something that one doesn't
need a car accident to acquire. Stubbed toes, twisted knees and
ankles, skin and clothing ripped by thorns and spines are all standard
issue, they are simply a part of the job. And this will go on for the
duration, for the next two seasons, till the job is done for another
year. But, oh what a job.....and oh what a place to labor in!

Well done. I'm looking forward to getting out there myself - the sooner, the
better.
--
TL,
Tim
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http://css.sbcma.com/timj