Sunday, March 22, 2026

Yellow Lenten Rose


 With Easter approaching, Lenten roses are blooming in protected spots under trees that have not yet leafed out. All hellebores are somewhat toxic to people and animals, so perhaps it’s a good thing that most varieties don’t call attention to themselves. They hang their heads, partly hiding their fringy stamens and the colorful sides of the petals. Lenten roses in white, rose and burgundy are common but this is the first yellow one I’ve seen. Its lemony hue is a reminder that they are members of the buttercup family.

Sunday, March 15, 2026

Daffodils In A Late Snow


 This past Wednesday it was eighty degrees, Nearly every daffodil in the side yard bloomed, trumpets raised to the sun. The next day, just before lunchtime, I looked out the window to see snowflakes flying by at a very insistent angle. They were the big, wet kind, so large I could almost see their hexagonal shape as they flew by. I ventured out to check on the daffodils. They were already prostrate under a sugar-crystal crust that was beautiful in its own harsh way, but also a reminder that both winter and spring can reign during this liminal season.

Sunday, March 8, 2026

Half-Hidden Graffiti


 Last week, I walked along a paved trail that goes under a busy street. Graffiti artists have left their tags on the more sheltered part of an overpass. Crisp, regimented black and white letters contrast with ballooning nicknames and alien-like figures in bright colors. I saw just a sliver as I walked past. In a world of sand and concrete, this fleeting outburst of color and creativity was a welcome surprise. 

Sunday, March 1, 2026

Winter Bench


 It’s a nearly black and white world after a snow. Only the brittle oak leaves add a subtle touch of color. No one waited for the school bus. By midmorning the snow in the trees has formed soft ice balls the size of gumdrops. They dropped on my head in a noisy shower as I contemplated the converging lines of the bench and the fence.