28 April 2024 (a wet mink)

a wet mink

bounds up the riverbank . . .

catkins in bloom

18 March 2024 (everything)

everything i want

right now

pussy willows

7 April 2023 (new meds)

I just want to express gratitude to those readers/friends who reached out to me this week to make sure I was ok. I did post a few haiku that were bleak in tone, but I hasten to assure you that all is well and those poems (including this one) are not representative of my personal reality! But I was really touched that some people in my life read my haiku closely enough to be worried about me and reach out—thank you very much for caring.

***

new meds . . .

fog-wet pussy willows

embrace a power line

23 April 2021 (snow)

spitting snow

pussy willows leaf out

in a vase

March 4: Signs of Spring, Part IV

After Basho

 

Finishing vodka

to use the bottle--

a vase for pussy willows.

Posted with Blogsy

February 25: Signs of Spring, Part I

in dirty snow

at the margins of the town dump

first pussy willows

Posted with Blogsy

March 19: The night before spring begins

No woodcocks twittering

in the frozen alders,

no pussy willow buds.

Posted with Blogsy

February 10: Pussy Willow

A friend told me recently that when he first moved to Maine, to the boonies of Montville, his 80-year old neighbor told him that every winter she just counted down the days till February 10. Why that date? he wondered. Because, she told him, that's when we start to feel the heat of the sun again here in Maine.

We certainly felt the heat of the sun today, with 45-degree temperatures and clear skies. Up on Beech Hill, where the trail was enjoying a brief mud season, I even came across a pussy willow with two catkins (which was a challenge to photograph in a strong wind).

Hard to imagine that we haven't really turned the corner into spring, that it's going to snow several inches tomorrow and be icy cold on Sunday. But, hey, it's February 10. When the sun does come back out, we'll feel its heat again, more pussy willows will bud, then leaf out. And soon the warmth will be here to stay, for a few months at least.

Catkins in the snow--

even the willow knows when 

earth tilts toward the sun.

March 5: Signs of Spring?

This time of year has its dismal moments--cold rain falling on ten-foot high piles of dirty snow, mountain shrouded in mist, foghorn lowing, everything looking rather bleak and blah. Perhaps that's why any little sign that spring is on its way seems so exciting. Last week my husband and I were unduly thrilled to see a turkey vulture soaring over I-95 in New Hampshire, the earliest we've ever seen a vulture in our neck of the woods. This morning while at the YMCA, I noticed out the window, against the backdrop of the town transfer station, budding pussy willows.

View-blocking mounds of snow still fill our yard, however. And on our way back home from the Y we observed a small flock of Bohemian waxwings--a boreal bird we only see here in winter--feeding in an apple tree. But then when we pulled into our driveway, we were greeted by a cacophony of singing birds: a pair of cardinals, goldfinches, house finches, titmice, chickadees... The days lengthen and they respond, regardless of the snow-encrusted landscape.

Above heaps of snow,
pussy willows waken me
from winter's long dream.

March 15: Pussy Willows

Out a window at the back of the office, along a sunny wooded edge: pussy willows! One big bush was busting out all over with fluffy white catkins neatly aligned along the naked branches. Every since I learned the "Pussy Willow Song" as a kid, I've always been excited to see the first pussy willows of spring: "I know a little pussy. Her coat is silver gray. She lives down in the meadow, not very far away..."

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Besides their cuteness factor, pussy willows are also interesting from cultural and biological perspectives:

• According to Wikipedia, some Christians in northern climates who don't have access to palm leaves apparently carry boughs of pussy willows instead. Makes practical as well as symbolic sense to me.
• The pussy willow flower, which the catkin eventually blooms into, is an important early source of pollen for native bees. And our native bees need all they help they can get.
• Studies have shown that pussy willow flower nectar is very high in sugar content. Good to know if you're lost in the spring woods--just suck on a bunch of pussy willows.
• Many species of willow contain salicin in their bark, which is the basis for salicylic acid, a natural analgesic commonly known to us as aspirin. Also probably good to know if you're lost in the woods.

All very interesting, but really, what I love is that pussy willows embody the essence of renewal in early spring, the bare branches suddenly bursting to life with catkins while the leaves are still tight buds. I can never resisting cutting a branch or two to bring inside. If left in a vase without water, they'll last a long time. And while I'm at it, I usually cut a few boughs of forsythia, as well, to force their sunny blossoms (water required) a few weeks ahead of schedule. In Maine we get impatient for spring, so we make it happen.

Pussy willow buds

in coats of silver gray--spring,

childhood songs return.