growing things

Ah, summer. It is upon us!

The tantalizing but inconsistent spring has at last given way to a relatively constant temperature and no more threats of snow. It is possible to lay out in the sun with a book. The mosquito larvae in the swamp has hatched. Camping plans are in the works.

There are so many things to look forward too! A few weeks ago, I found a clutch of tadpole eggs in a ditch, and they have since hatched and reached a centimeter in length. The little black dots suspended in jelly uncoiled themselves into wriggling blobs with tails; little prokaryote-like things. I've changed out the water a handful of times, watching for the knobs that will become legs to appear.

Ivy likes to search for froggies, too.

And there are other growing projects. K and I planted three small garden beds in the forest. One rhubard, one pansy, and one wildflower mixture. We've been watering them with two old buckets found in a pile of junk that must have been dumped there decades ago. My forest seems so full of curiosities--no wonder I found it magical as a child.

As well, my mother decided to purchase a batch of painted lady caterpillars for the butterfly garden she plans to set up this year. They have been fattening daily.

In short, dears, there is a lot going on in the life of Laura, and it's wonderful. She will be posting pictures of these tiny lives as they grow. Life is exciting and full of growth and light. Happy May!
 

Start again in the month of May
Start again in the month of May
Come on and blow the wires away
Come on and blow the wires, the wires away 
—Arcade Fire

new swamp

Last night was the first of the frog song. The even, shrill voice of the Boreal Chorus and the hoarse clucks of the Wood lifted up together to declare they were awake again. Their song has always been my sign that spring has actually come at last. Anyone would sing who had finally thawed out after a long winter freeze. What enduring, beloved little beasts.

After an interrupted period of warmth involving cold wind and a thin layer of snow, it has finally been proper warm these last few days. Warm enough that all the snow--except for the sections under heavy shade--has melted. And, just like every year after the snow melts, our field has turned into a swamp. A new swamp for a new spring. It mostly dries up by the time the farmers cultivate and plant their crops, but stays just long enough to produce a large population of frogs, allowing for what I like to call "frogging season." It's my favourite time of year.

So, yesterday, after seeing all this upon returning home from the day's Easter festivities, going out into it was obviously irresistible. I waded into the marsh as far as my cracked rubber boots would allow me, and as they filled up with water, I listened to the frog symphony and watched the sunset. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and the spicy, rotted-grass-smell of swamp. The dogs played in the water and tried to chase the ducks.

Summer is coming. The frogs and the sun seem to say so. There will be insects and storms and a garden to plant soon. I am so thankful to live out here; so thankful for the changing of the seasons.

"Have no place to go, mmmmm./Have no place to go, darling." -C2C