May 10: Greening

A couple of days of rain and mist, and the trees in our backyard have really greened up and leafed out.

Much-needed rain falls.
Yard becomes a leafy stage
through which one crow flies.

May 9: Massage

I got a much-needed, very rigorous deep tissue massage this afternoon at Beauty Mark Day Spa, and walked out the door afterward, into the foggy spring evening, feeling sore and a bit dazed.

After the massage,
fog blanketed my shoulders,
a weightless burden.

May 8: Pastoral

Crow calmly grazes,
surrounded by dandelions
in the green grass.

May 6: Afternoon song

Soothing, somehow--
breeze through the screen,
robin's rollicking, sunlit song.

May 5: Alewives

A friend and I visited the historic fish ladder in Damariscotta Mills this morning at high tide and then again this afternoon at low tide. We were mesmerized by the undulating masses of thousands of fish, as they struggled past the gauntlet of gulls up the watery staircase and through a mill pond to eventually reach their spawning grounds in Damariscotta Lake.

Alewives head upstream
in swirling fin mandalas--
oh, to be that sure.

Self-portrait with fish

May 4: Mayflowers

I spent several hours tramping around the greening woods of the Ducktrap River Preserve this morning. Some first spring sightings of warblers, including a beautiful sunlit view of a singing Blackburnian amid the hemlocks, and some first wildflowers, like this Trailing Arbutus.

Commonly called mayflowers, Trailing Arbutus flowers are often tucked away under its big leathery leaves. My grandmother, who would have been 99 in a few days if she were still alive, loved these best because they always bloomed in time for her birthday. And if you get down on your hands and knees and put your face close, you can smell their subtle, sweet fragrance.

It's a bit like prayer--
head down on the forest floor
sniffing the mayflower.

Trailing Arbutus blooming on the banks of the tea-brown Ducktrap River

May 3: Fern heads

Tightly curled fern--

fuzzy fist punching the spring sky,

beating it blue.

May 2: In my herb garden

Tulip leaves push through
the center of a sage plant--
power of yearning.

May 1: May Day

May Day, or Beltane--the pagan holiday celebrating the fertility of the verdant earth. This morning a Red-bellied Woodpecker was chirring repeatedly in the yard while I ate breakfast. Now a flicker's staccato whinny, cardinal's sputtering, and always the titmouse's incessant, loud whistles. The lawn greens in this vernal sunlight, bulbs bloom, buds swell. So much going on out there right now, the "season for loving."

Woodpecker calling
with uplifting urgency:
May Day! I need you!

April 30: Osprey

This morning the shadow of a large bird moving through the trees manifested itself as a brown and white Osprey. It perched in a tree in the neighbor's yard, from which it could look down on the river. I think it was poised right over my husband's favorite fishing hole. The river's barely more than a stream where we live, but it serves as a wooded, watery pathway for Ospreys, eagles, and kingfishers. I never get too used to seeing them pass through my back yard.

Osprey watches the river.
It's all about positioning--
right place, right time.

April 29: Kingfisher

Didn't get outside all day until I left the office well after 6:00 pm, but was rewarded for a long day's work by a kingfisher rattling overhead. First one of the spring for me here, though I've seen some further south in Maine. He seemed to be traveling downriver. When I told my husband, he wondered aloud if the river had been stocked with fish this spring. I think he was also wondering silently if he could get outside and go fishing while there was still daylight.

Kingfisher sounds annoyed
to find the river so low.
Spring hopes realign.