Alas, it’s back to me after last week’s lovely interlude by Marjorie.
“The point is that the pleasures of spring are available to everybody, and cost nothing. Even in the most sordid street the coming of spring will register itself by some sign or other, if it is only a brighter blue between the chimney pots or the vivid green of an elder sprouting on a blitzed site. Indeed it is remarkable how Nature goes on existing unofficially, as it were, in the very heart of London.”
George Orwell - Some Thoughts on the Common Toad - April 1946
For the last several months, many people have been using the term Orwellian to describe the dangerous abuse of language coming out of Washington D.C. With spring literally in the air, I’d like to focus on another aspect of the Orwellian world, his attention to the beauties and wonder of life emerging all around us, every day. Like George, I revel in the many pleasures of vernal renewal, though I like to think that I have not been visiting the “most sordid” of streets!
Spring has erupted promiscuously in our yard, in shades in purple and pink. One comes from the non-native, non-planted violets. I believe they have been designated as Viola riviniana with common names of Dog or Wood Violet. I cannot remember when this small plant first appeared in our yard; I do know that for many years I pulled them up. Finally, I decided to give in to my betters, realizing that this lovely bit of greenery was far better at spreading than I was at removing them. They are now widespread in our front yard, gracing the ground with their purple blooms. When I took the time to look at the flower, I saw the classic guide lines of color, which help direct pollinators to their sugary reward. Yet more evidence of the majesties of evolution.
Also bestowing lovely spring color in our yard are the bleeding hearts, Dicentra formosa. Native to our neck of the world, they have lacy leaves and purse-shaped flowers, the envy of any Prada-handbag-clutching fashionista. I planted one or two plants about a decade ago and they have now spread widely, providing a pismirean pleasure. That pleasure will be an elaiosome, or package of fat attached to the bleeding heart’s little black seeds. Soon ants will harvest the seed and fat, a process known as myrmecochory, and continue spreading the plants around our yard. Dang, three outstanding words, one, outstanding plant.
I have been witnessing another explosion of life on the lawn of the North Seattle Campus a few blocks from our house. Covering the ground are thousands of finger-sized seedlings, each with a pair of orangish red, triangular, serrate-edged leaves. They are the progeny of a massive bigleaf maple, now pregnant with flowers. As often happens, none of little shoots will survive long; hope springs eternal for the maple but crashes with the reality of herbivores and lawn mowers. Knowing of their fate, I am reminded to rejoice at life seeking life.
Another vernal activity that has pleased me has been a cliche-personifying beaver busying away along the Centennial Trail. For the past several weeks on my ride with Scott, we have watched as a beaver cut down two alders and started work on a third. Both of us have been wondering what was up; yes, spring is a time of year for beavers to get their house in order but the trees were never going to end up in a lodge. The creek next to the trees was about as wide as the trees and the nearest lodge was one-half mile distant. Turns out that beavers are rather partial to the bark and cambium of tree branches and it’s a heck of a lot easier to get branches off the ground than having to climb the tree every time you want a meal.
My spring highlight occurred two weeks ago. I had just ended a walk exploring the historic shoreline of Seattle. I was standing with my pal Tony and a friend of his next to an ivy-covered concrete wall, sandwiched between two, five-story buildings, when we saw a hummingbird. “That’s a female. This time of year you can follow her to find her nest,” said Tony. We did and we did, locating the nest amid the ivy. Not wanting to disturb the two youngsters, who were barely contained with the cup of lichen, moss, and spider web, I took one photo and backed away.
Tony later explained that several features indicated that the adult was a female. She was probing and gathering and not gorging and guarding; the males have no involvement in the nest and its occupants (and generally are noticed during their courtship display), whereas she needs to feed the kids every few minutes. Tony also noted the white-tipped tail and lack of iridescent gorget, further confirming she was a female. I’ll add that Tony observed these details in about a gazillionith of second, followed immediately by his statement about the female and her actions. I felt like I was with a magician: Presto magico, here’s a hummingbird’s nest, even more amazing for its location in downtown Seattle.
In Orwell’s essay, he asks if it’s “wicked to take pleasure in spring,” considering the challenges of the world, which were certainly epic and severe in post-WWII London, and sadly still are now. He categorically rejects those who hold such a view and offers a wonderful sentiment: “I think that by retaining one's childhood love of such things as trees, fishes, butterflies and—to return to my first instance—toads, one makes a peaceful and decent future a little more probable.”
Not surprisingly, I agree without qualification with George. Here’s to retaining, maintaining, and growing one’s childhood love of the natural world and the joys and peace it sustains, no matter where one lives or the time of year. Happy Spring to all.
Words of the Week - Pismire - An ant, from combining piss and mire, in reference to the aroma of an anthill. First used by Geoffrey Chaucer in 1395.
Myrmecochory - The dispersal of seeds by ants. Myrmeco - a word derived from Ancient Greek, in connection with ants.
If you want a preview of Wild in Seattle, the Seattle Times ran a wonderful excerpt from it on Sunday in their magazine.
Tomorrow night, Friday, April 18, I will be sharing the stage with artist Elizabeth Person as we discuss Wild in Seattle: Stories at the Crossroads of People and Nature – Brick and Mortar Books – 6:00 P.M. – Redmond
I have copies of Wild in Seattle for sale. Here’s a link. Cost is $28.00, which includes shipping, taxes, and my signature. The link takes you to a Square page. Shipments only in the U.S.
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