The Tapestry of Late Spring
June 4, 2023 - Colors, Feathers, Mud and Fluff
Spring moves quickly toward summer. The sun rises early, before 6 AM, and I’ve missed more than a few trying to get enough sleep. The skies are big and often hazy but less colorful than the skies of winter. It seems the painter has turned her attention to petals, wings, and smaller things.
The birds of summer are loud and bold, unlike the (mostly) quieter birds of winter. This yellow-breasted chat carries on a conversation as vibrant and audacious as his bright yellow chest. This is the first year I’ve heard his voice and it is unique enough I will not soon forget it. He is certainly no wallflower!
The orchard orioles dance among the emerging berries singing their flute-like song. The mulberry bushes are among their favorites and they vie for berries with catbirds, Baltimore orioles, and warblers. Birds sing with their whole bodies holding nothing back, the oriole’s throat ruffles with as he sings his song.
The flowers of spring match the vibrance of the birds with their bold colors. Iris bloomed in a multitude of varieties of red, purple, blue, orange, pink and yellow. This one appeared in my neighbor’s yard.
Our local botanical garden (Powell Gardens) planted a rainbow of snapdragons that included this amazing pink:
The ducks and geese molt their feathers just in time for the swallows to take them to their nests. It looks like the big white duck from two summers ago (story here) left his mark on the local mallard population!
The cottonwoods produce berries for the hungry birds and shed their “fluff” which is then used (along with mud from the rains) to build many nests. The fluff makes me sneeze, but it’s hard not to love the way the creatures of nature provide for each other.
Fledgling chickadees chase their parents around, curiously checking out everything while simultaneously begging for bugs.
Butterflies are finally emerging as the temperatures warm and they have their own mating dance. These two skippers fluttered at each other for a long while, the first time I’ve seen that.
Spring has so many stories to tell, with a multitude of threads overlapping into a tapestry that is weaving itself even as the stories unfold. I’ve been trying to write the stories of different threads, to weave together a series of stories from the 1000+ photos sitting before me. Yet it’s the tapestry I find myself looking at. One story blends perfectly into the next. There is no beginning and no end, no demarcation point that says that was spring and this is summer. Every creature is on its own timeline and yet the chorus lines up in a perfect symphony.
I wonder sometimes what will happen to all of my unfinished stories, the ones that haven’t come together in any cohesive form. Will they reappear somewhere down the road? Will we come around the circle next year and suddenly one will make sense - and even if it does, will it be a different story then? It seems to be the way of life, it never stops for me to make sense of it and grasp its meaning. It just keeps moving on, a canvas ever-changing right before my eyes.
Just when I fear that the chaos in the world has gotten the upper hand, these breathtaking images and
the tapestry of nature reassures me that all is not lost and renews my hope and joy! Thank you for a Trinity Sunday "sermon" preached by creation itself.
Beautiful descriptive writing Karen and gorgeous photos! As an artist I feel a bit frantic trying to absorb and take in all spring has to offer! lol She just marches on too quickly, never slowing down for those who want to soak in her beauty a bit longer. xx