Spring came in with mud. North Shore mud is not just any old mud. This mud is special. Red, sticky, staining, heavy mud. I should take pictures of it right now. Not that I want to remember. I just know how it works. You think it’s never going to end, but eventually one day it’s green grass and dry gravel and places to walk again.
But each day in spite this sea of mud I have been going out to watch the creek flow by, and the little brooks that are coming off the land back of the house running down into the creek. The mosses are up and growing green.
The garden made it’s first appearance this week. Any discouragement I’m feeling about the mud has been alleviated entirely.
The mosses are especially lovely. They’re the first new green to defy the snow piles around them.
If you go out in the woods, up against the wet places, under the trees where they’re growing thickly, you’ll find them. I don’t know a lot about mosses but I know that in a couple of weeks they’ll be “blooming”. Not even sure if that’s correct terminology. I’d better go look this up.
Stone House Scribblings 