The Lure of Labor in the Lavender and Lilac

I started out the day with the best of intentions.
It's a holiday.
I'll clean house.
I'll scrub the kitchen.
I'll do the laundry.

Then I took a brief, brisk walk.
On my way back, I noticed an offending rose-bush branch that had plopped itself right over my sidewalk. That rose bush was wildly out of hand. Stepping inside for a pair of lawn shears, I noticed that my kitchen window was sadly cloudy; maybe if I trimmed the rosebush out of the way, I could reach it without scratching my arms and give it a wash.

 Three hours later, two of my back windows were washed, Three lawn bags of old leaves cleaned from the flowerbed and sacked for pickup. The lavender had been transplanted back into the bed, from which it had been straying a little further every year for the last ten, and the crowded irises thinned and transplanted to the bare bed where once tomatoes struggled. The tulip beds were watered, the lawn raked and ready for rain, the rose bushes trimmed almost into oblivion...and the lilac? Well I couldn't trim it in bloom like that. It smells wonderful.

Sigh. The house is still in dire need of straightening. Maybe tomorrow.
But hey! It's spring! And the weather outside is exhilarating!

And I'm not the only one who's going to think so. Somebody loves "plowers".

Spring Tulips

 

The tulips I planted last fall
Were brown-skinned and shaped like a ball
Except for the name
They looked just the same
Identical? No, not at all.

They tremble and bob in the light
Fresh-born from their underground night
Such transient shading!
It's already fading.
And I'll have to remember this sight.

Canola in the April Green

Our usual March fields are green--new wheat green.
There's the occasional white elevator poking out, and the blue, cloud streaked skies over and above, but the ground is green--just green.

This year is different. I don't know if it's due to the drought last year, or if there was a great sale at the local COOP, but this year's green has occasional interruptions of blazing yellow canola.

I'll be driving along, resting my eyes on the green with a merry sigh that it actually has been raining when boom--there's a yellow field. 

Sometimes I can see it for miles and miles ahead.

Not only is it fantastically beautiful, but it even smells fragrant.

And if you have any farmer friends, they might let you stand at the edge of the field and soak it all in.

I hope it harvests well. Because if it does, we might be seeing it for a long time.
Welcome to Western Oklahoma, Canola.

Red Bud Trees

"There sure are a lot of those blue trees beside the road," remarked my husband, as we drove out in the spring countryside.



"Blue? Where?"

"There's one now. Right there."

"Those are not blue. They're purplish-pink."

"That's what Claye said. Still, they look blue to me."


Turtle has a "red" deficiency color-blindness, so I guess if you take the red from purple that leaves blue.


They're called red bud trees. I wonder why. Shouldn't they be pinkish, purplish bud trees?
Turtle would have called them "blue bud trees."

It Must Be Green Again

My husband Turtle is colorblind.
Not totally colorblind, mind you, so that his world is black, white and all gray in- between, but a faded sort of colorblind that can't tell the difference between red, orange, and yellow; that only sees the blue in aqua and purple (making them the same color); and that cannot tell the difference between green and brown.

Poor guy.

I feel sorry for anyone who can't see green. Especially at this time of year, when glorious green sings mightily under the pale blue sky.

I sigh contentedly out the car window,
"It's so beautiful out there."

He says: "What? Oh. It must be green again."

Spring Break

All grandmothers should stop everything else and have a little fun playing with grandchildren over spring break. It keeps you young and creative. Here's a brief catalog of lots of wonderful moments we've shared over the last couple of days. If I call it taming wild horses, I guess it can be another labor of Hercules...but that's not really fair. They aren't particularly wild, certainly not man-eaters (although Zaya was howling loudly, pretending to be a wolf this morning...hmm. Yes, I'll go for the Horses of Diomedes labor.)

Thirteen Reasons to take a Hike!

1. First of all, look at the adventure. What could be more enticing than a distant mountain top shrouded in fog?











2. Next, It's a good way to teach an object lesson
to a group of active teenagers--
sophomores, to be precise?
















3. Looking at still, clear, shady water and tiny,
tangerine, spring flowers clears the mind of winter slush.


















4. Learning how to follow instructions and a map;
it's a vital skill!















5. In this forest, I once surprised a baby fawn;
then the mother deer surprised me. I couldn't out
run her, so I froze; they both went flying off
through the trees.
















6. Rocky roads make me appreciate the smooth
paths that will come at the end of the hike.














7. Following a trail to somewhere; It leads on and on
and there isn't any question here
whether I'm are on the right path.
It's a safe, sure feeling.















8. For hiking, cloudy days are even better
than sunny ones, and the cool, moist
kiss of spring is a welcome drizzle on my face.

9. Up in this high Mountain meadow, I sometimes see an old buffalo, driven to solitude by the younger, stronger herd leader. He doesn't bother me. I don't bother him. I think, today, he is gone, spooked and hiding from the shrill shouts of the jubilant sophomores who ran ahead of me

10. The only thing loud in these silent woods is the occasional ta-woo ta-woo of a little, brown bird.













ll. Lakes along the path, make for fish and
turtle splashes; wild geese decorate the water
with widening v's.















12. Old dams, build by the CCC in the days of
economic depression, still stand, a testament
to those who worked for their bailouts.














13. As the road nears home, the walking seems
easier. My feet sense rest and sigh.


I've taken this hike for around 18 years now. Oddly enough, I still have to be careful not to get off the track. New growth is confusing in some places. This time, a couple of us got lost once, but we headed for high ground and were able to spot the rest of the group. We also made use of a whistle and a compass. Well, you never know, do you? The sign at the trail head says it's "8 miles" long, but the guidebook says "6 miles". I'm going to be safe and say seven. The Wichita Mountains Buffalo Trail; it's a pleasant morning hike in spring, fall, or winter. Summer? Well, if you have a lot of sunscreen and plenty of water.

Weather and Windmills

Two great things to take pictures of...
Sarah Lee and I went to the college to collect Claye for the weekend. On the way home, it was threatening rain, and the sky was lovely. I kept stopping, so Claye and I could take these pictures.
Spring skies are simply too beautiful to resist.
After we downloaded them, I spent an hour tweaking, taking out telephone lines and cropping etc. , but the subject matter is just that beautiful by itself. God is an amazing artist!