unfurlings continue

Here's what's been going on around here.

Red eft. Kevin took this picture. 

Ferns just starting to open.

We have a jack! We have a jack! This is basically at the foot of our driveway. It's the only one I've seen. 

Our lilacs are taking their time.

Another type of fern unfurling.

Down past the booming metropolis that is the village of Westminster West, I found a veritable boatload of sarsaparilla. Happiness!

And, back to the ferns.

Blah blah blah, words, pictures, words. I'll leave you with this:

lunch in the lilacs

We have a small lilac bush at the front of the house and yesterday, as I came in from checking the mail, I gave it a quick once-over. I spotted the iridescent wing of a something-something. Squinted at it. Oh my: a syrphid fly had been invited to lunch by a crab spider. Fetchez le camera!

“Welcome!”

“You look marvelous! Have you lost weight?”

“I love your new look!”

There was a light breeze, which set the lilac blooms dancing. It was hard to get a good shot. I stabilized the branch for my own reasons, but the spider took advantage of the sudden (relative) stillness to manoeuver her guest into a better position:

Diner est servi!

The nice folks over at bugguide.net believe the guest to be a female Toxomerus geminatus. Although by now she’s been transmogrified into her host(ess), the spider. And so it goes.

the unfolding of spring: blink, and you’ll miss it.

I don’t know about you, but my brain melts at temperatures above 80 degrees. It’s Vermont. It’s March. Good Lord. The process of documenting spring’s awakening is UPON US, baby. The frogs started hollering yesterday afternoon. All kinds of things are happening-all-of-the-sudden, and here I am, with a melted brain. Here’s what I was able to capture today:

The lilac buds started opening. Today. Last year, the buds were closed on April 6th, and it took them until April 22nd to get to the stage shown above. This year, they went from closed, to open, in two days.

The lone miniature lawn hyacinth poked up.

So did these guys. I never did really ID ‘em last year – I think I went with white blue-eyed grass.
Here’s one of my world-famous time-lapse sequences of buds opening up. I believe this is an introduced species – Cornus mas, or a cherry dogwood.

The terminal bud.

The next set of buds. No news.

The next set of buds…hello!

…the next set of buds…

An explosion of yellow. I swear, I’m going to have to just camp out next to this and try and spot how this happens. Sproinnnggggg!

Ta da!


Along the driveway, the wild rose is leafing out today. Last year? Late April.
As for the gray birch – already, the buds are sporting their magenta headdresses while nearby, the catkins open up. This is a process that started last year on April 11th. So yeah, it’s been an accelerated spring.



I’ve got my work cut out for me, to run around and keep up with all of this – wish me luck!

in which I am yelled at by chipmunks

Early morning, sun just starting to pop up over the ridge.  It feels like days since I’ve had proper outside time.



Sumac glistens.


Sumac meets Captain Hook.


VICTORY! A milkweed pod opens up. Evidently the process happens when the pod opens up along a seam.

Ready to make a break for it.

They look hand-carved.


Cache of orange shrooms.
And now, a lesson in threes

Maiden (July 1)

Mother (September 21)

Crone (November 9)
Later on, I was scolded by no fewer than three chipmunks.
The fourth didn’t bother to yell at me. It just kept munching.

More mosses going to town with those naughty bits.


Lilac pods, their work done.


Curly dock: sheer fabulousness.

Even the plants are better organized than I am

Take the lilac: it’s made and released seeds…

“Laaaaaah!”


…and they’ve already made their buds for next year.

Rhododendron: same story. As for me? I haven’t even put away my summer T-shirts yet.
I get complimented occasionally by my slavishly devoted blog fans for how Observant I am, How Great that I Notice All the Beauty in the Ordinary World Around Me.  Explain to me then how I managed to miss this entire huge shrub, right next to the Maybe Arrowwood Maybe Hydrangea shrub.

Huhhhh...? Anybody have any suggestions? It’s a shrub with opposite leaves. That’s all I got.


Deformed magnolia buds are turning red. Did you see the one where I dissected these in the hopes that they were insect galls? Turns out they were growing seeds. Ooops. Sorry.
And now for the wildflower report.

Starflower. The evergreen leaves are vinca – which, incidentally, are still throwing off purple flowers.

Miterwort. 
Yeah, I know, not as beautiful as you were hoping for, huh? It’s fall, people! Here’s what miterwort looks like when it’s flowering. And here are its positively cute-alicious seeds.
OK, one last bit of news. The other day’s fall dandelion is actually Cat’s Ear (Hypochoeris radicata). Thanks, Arianna, for figuring that out for me!

Mmmm, sweet. Relish this color, cause it’s all gonna fade soon…
The tie-breaking indicator? Fuzzy leaves.


Charlie greets his namesake flower.