spring is here, somewhere

So, it is spring time. At least that's what the calendar suggests. Albertans know better than to count on it, though. Gardeners and farmers, in particular, know better than to assume that the equinox means spring has sprung and the grass will surely soon be growing. I suppose, if you give "soon" a more objective understanding, you could say that, indeed, "soon" the grass would be green and growing again. ... if by soon, you mean sooner than back in January. ha! We still have a month and a half more-or-less. Luckily farmers have developed planting regimes to embrace the winter here, and winter wheat, a fall/winter-planted grain has the benefit of growing immediately after the soil thaws instead of waiting for the soil to be first plough-able. Most gardeners don't get to be so lucky. We wait until the thaw is upon us, the soil is workable once again, and only THEN do we start to turn the earth and throw down seeds for the summer of plenty. It really is a feast and famine cycle up here. ... as far as nature's bounty is concerned. Though you can cheat a little if you use cold frames and start planting indoors in February or March.

Anyway, not the point of this. It is officially spring. And, as is wont to happen up here at 53 degrees, Latitude, it snowed. There's nothing quite like knowing Nature has a sense of humour. First weekend of spring? Of course you need snow! Fresh, moist, dense snow, not unlike walking on cookie dough, just in time for Monday morning. The flakes started falling fast and thick around 1am, and by morning commute, a good inch and a half had hit the ground in my neighbourhood, more in other areas. Everything was amok in, well, muck, and slush, underlain with surprisingly slick ice. With the sun rising earlier (hooray daylight savings time and equinox!!), it made for an absolutely breathtaking morning commute. ... even if it was snow-saturated!

Today the thaw has started anew, and the fields are re-browning, and the roads are accumulating mud. These, of course, are sure signs that spring truly is on its way. But I won't count on spring until the grass starts to turn green and the aspen have let forth their sap (which I am starting to smell on the wind in small quantities). The birds are returning, I hope this snow wasn't too much of a shock. The Canada geese are slowly re-conglomerating, and the nuthatches have started up their mating calls from my neighbour's tree.

In order of my day, yesterday:

The shrubs at a local park. Snow-covered branches getting lit up by the rising sun.


Snow-coated trees at the bus terminal.


Strong winds coated signs to the point of illegibility in some cases.


My walk home gave me views of neat rows of chaff in the fields.


Snow encrusted wind breaks.


Charmingly pastoral scenes.



A loading-up of grain.


and a barn being divested of its possessions.


and having things pulled out of the roof?

Amazing what a few days does

The March lamb is certainly looking upon us with favour lately. The last few photos I posted on Monday were from March 8th. By today, the 17th, the landscape looks completely different. While spring remains one of my favourite times of the year, it quite often falls into the depressingly drab category, colour-wise. Once the brilliant white snow starts to melt (or often, in our case, the muddy grey snow, coated in winter's roadside sanding efforts), all we're left with is frozen earth, chilly mud puddles, a multitude of ice and sad, dry, dead brown grass.

Or, well, dead, brown everything. It often takes a month-ish of freeze-thaw, teasing snowfalls, sleet and rain to freshen the air and wash away the snow mould. Only THEN does the world take on a fresher hue, and that mostly comes from refreshed air and the opening-up of rivers, lakes and ponds, as their masses of ice finally start to melt and yield landing spots to the geese who've started to arrive (according to my excited friends who've been lucky enough to see them). The first signs of green often come from planted crocuses and daffodils in peoples' front lawns, or the much more feral greening of the poplar and aspen bark as the trees begin to thaw, swell and photosynthesize in their trunks and stems before it's safe to push forth with new leaves. The scent of aspen and poplar sap, freely running, is, for me, a sure sign that spring is finally on its way. Birds can be confused, daffodils and crocuses aren't from here and don't understand the ways of our landscape and unrelenting weather, but the poplars and aspen actually know what's going on. The buds are starting to swell in the trees, and the first signs of trunk swelling are showing through in the more urban, sunny clumpings of aspen. They're whispering, but soon... soon spring may be upon us. ... or it'll snow and we'll be reminded that we can only safely sit outside at the end of April because, of course, this is Canada, and the 53rd parallel is not a tropical paradise. But one can dream!

Anyway, photos!
Building off of the last two from Monday's post, here is that same windbreak today:


Here's another of the empty field:


The barn now has an enormous meltwater puddle:


(instead of how it looked last week)


and even the trees are starting to get in on springtime...

you can't see it, but those buds are swelling! (plus I couldn't resist posting a photo of that sky and the drifting, wispy clouds)