Meanwhile, our neighborhood is blessed by a Great Horned Owl which makes this a special spring. The honored neighbor is in a tall pine tree a short distance from our apartment, at the northeast corner of Knickerbocker and Cross Street.
This picture is from the Web. The nest is to the left and above the owl. According to a neighbor there are at least two owlets. I have seen one. The baby is a big white fluff ball with huge eyes. I will continue visiting and quietly watch as the owlets proceed on their journeys. May they be safe and protected.
The owl's presence stimulated an exchange of haiku with my friend Barb R.
Barb Jake
Pine green swaying boughs Pine and healing sun
Cradle hidden owlets safe Horned owl not home today
Needles whisper sleep Spirit still refreshed
Here are seven pictures of spring emerging in Prospect Gardens. I continued to experiment with haiku.
New shinning red orb
Unwanted by a near neighbor
Spirit--health and life
A neighbor on nearby Commonwealth Avenue didn't want the orb and placed it on a pile of leaves near the curb. I happened to see her in the front yard and after receiving permission gently carried the orb to Prospect Gardens. She was pleased that the orb found a new home.
Garden visitor
Guest to be warmly welcomed?
Pesky intruder?
Laura, one of our faithful volunteers, spotted this being and emailed me the picture. It didn't move even while her dog, Cozmo, barked at it. Initially, I thought it was a rat while Laura said maybe a young ground hog. After a discussion with her sister, Laura now thinks it's a muskrat, even though no water is nearby. Perhaps curiosity caused it to venture out of the nearby sewer. No more reported citing, to my relief.
Columbines resting
Seeded under Fall skies
With no expectations
Thanks again Ann N. for harvesting the seeds from your backyard. They will emerge and grace the Gardens.
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| Picture by Laura |
Now a decade old
Forsythia blooming again
Youth and joy return
Siberian Squill
Early deep blue delicate blooms
Such fleeting beauty
One of my favorite early spring flowers. So happy that they have found their way into Prospect Gardens. No help from me or anybody. The magic of nature.
Ditch Lilies rise
Here when freight trains passed by
Now bikers fly by
Trilliums show up
Commonly called "wake robin"
Red blooms announce spring!
Budding Hyacinth
Soon calming blue simplicity
Take note passersby
Sharing my memories of past springs and Easters through haiku seemed dauting. Prose will have to do. My childhood and teenage memories of spring include Lent, the six preparatory weeks before Easter and the holiday itself. My mother made sure that we at least heard the priest's message to give up something for Lent. I no longer remember what I specifically gave up, but I recall it was something not too taxing.
Every Wednesday night we attended Stations of the Cross at the large Catholic church in the center of nearby Pulaski. The church was always packed. We attended church on Holy Wednesday, Holy Thursday, sometimes on Holy Saturday, Good Friday, and on Easter.
Services on Good Friday started at noon and ended about three hours later. All village businesses were closed, including all taverns. Parking was at a premium and if you didn't arrive early you stood in the back of the church. We always arrived early.
The ritual I recall most involved kissing the feet of Jesus. Two altar boys, in white cassock-like robes, supported a large crucifix situated at one end of the church's very long center aisle. The crucifix rested at an angle in front of the main sanctuary. Shortly after entering the opposite end of the aisle you got on your knees and slowly made your way to the crucifix at the other end with others all around you. Once you kissed the feet, one of the altar boys would wipe Jesus' feet. Definitely something that would be prohibited during the pandemic.
A less arduous and more enjoyable ritual was accompanying the Easter basket of food prepared by my mother to church for a blessing. Ma packed a green metal basket that once held cookies purchased from Cook's Coffee. The Cook's Coffee man in an orange and black van, packed with goods, appeared occasionally at our farm. I wonder why Ma bought that basket of cookies. I still remember the sale and how surprised I was that the man convinced Ma to buy the shiny green basket of cookies. We usually did not have money for such luxuries, as store made cookies. Perhaps she had some extra money from selling eggs to the owners of Hussin's General Store in nearby Pittsfield.
The repurposed basket was perfect for the blessing ritual. Ma packed the basket with ham, Polish sausage, hard boiled eggs, homemade bread, some butter, salt and pepper and something sweet like her donuts or pies. The shiny green basket stood out among the other baskets lined up along the alter railing. The priest, in white vestments, said the blessing in Latin, and with several flips of the wrist, sprinkled holy water over the opened baskets. If you were nearby, beads of holy water fall upon you. The blessed food was served at breakfast at our home. We attended Easter Sunday mass and had a special meal sometime during the day, as well.
Of course, there was no exemption from daily farm chores. Animals were fed, cows milked, and manure removed. Plus during spring, calves were sometimes born and they required special attention. Teaching them how to drink milk out of a bucket was a challenge. If it was a warm day, the cows were released into the barnyard and they ran around like children during recess.
By early April, our pond and the creek overflowed with rushing water. Sometimes the water would almost reach the house. The frogs along the banks sang. Robbins and other birds joined the pleasant chorus. Apple trees in the orchid next to the house turned green and buds were ready to bloom. Peace and tranquility reigned as the cycles of life and rebirth moved forward.
Swallows returned to build their nests in the eves of the gabled roof barn. Red Wing Blackbirds swooped overhead as you made your way through the swamp section to the mailbox at the end of the mile dead end road. Gophers popped their heads out from their burrows along the road while Killdeers called out as they quickly skipped across the road in front of you.
At school before the Easter holiday, we made paper baskets. One of our teachers (I think it was Ms. Falkowski) collected and filled them with jelly beans and a chocolate bunny. One year, a late snowstorm closed school after Ms. Falkowski packed the baskets and placed them in a closet. When we returned, she sadly announced that mice had eaten much of the candies. I recall my heart sinking. There was no Easter candy for me, my brothers and my sisters.
Our daughter Emily fondly recalls the Easter baskets she received from her Grandmother, aunt and uncle and us. She recently told me that what she really liked was looking for the baskets. She was much more into the search process than the final outcome.
Ann and I had a quiet Easter. I am fully vaccinated while Ann will have a second shot on April 8th. We continue to be cautious.
We participated in our church's virtual Easter service. Our ministers and staff creatively captured and communicated the Easter message of renewal and rebirth following a period of suffering. When we will have in person services remains unknown.
Around noon, Ann and I enjoyed our traditional Easter brunch. We savored the last piece of incredible chocolate from the nearby Madison Chocolate Company, corner of Glenway and Monroe Streets.
In the evening we had our weekly phone call with Emily. We have not seen her in person since shortly before Thanksgiving 2019. It's been a long time and we hope to see her later this year.
Meanwhile the joys of spring are to be savored and enjoyed. Here's Billy Collins' praise of spring.
Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's
cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and
white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
From Aimless Love: New and Selected Poems by Billy Collins
Shortly, the twelfth season of tending the Gardens will commence. Ann and I already took down the orange snow fences. Those of you in Madison please consider volunteering. Your generosity would be greatly appreciated.
Please contact me at jacob84@charter.net and I will provide further details. Volunteers are the reason why our neighborhood has Prospect Gardens rather than a weed and invasive space.
Peace and well being to you and your loved ones.
