how the summer arrived
Jun. 26th, 2025 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marycatelliThe road, covered with snow melt, is patches of blue, reflecting the sky in puddles too shallow to fill all the cracks.
A gull soars, catching the sun, and the light pours white through its wings.
Helicopters passing by night are marked by the prolonged and bone-shaking rumble. The next day, a distant rumble -- and all the window shows is a hawk, swirling about.
The roadside is an endless sweep of leafless trees, ground scattered with moldering leaves and snow, below a river so ruffled as to be dark.
The birds now twitter, each one from his tree, a mingling of many songs as the flocks disperse to the work of nesting.
The river is ruffled, but streaks of brown run through the blue, where the mud is so thick it shows.
Sprouts, sprouts, everywhere, but in one spot, a great flurry of snowdrops blooming whitely.
The rivers overflow their banks so that the woodland and fields are simply pools of brown, the rivers themselves being invisible in it. But a waterfall over another slope is white and foaming but not filling its banks utterly. How the rain must have sunk already.
The sprouts poke up, here, there, everywhere, and abruptly, in one moment, a garden holds crocuses in purple, and dwarf irises in deeper purple, and scilly in blue. The next morning, the dwarf daffodils bloom as well.
They gather by the side of the road, their feathers black but mottled with other, dingy shades. I do not look too close, but at first think they are vultures, for their size. Then I realize their heads are also black. Ravens -- large ravens. But then the form is not right. They do not have large enough heads -- and one has a reddish head. Vultures with black heads as well as feathers, I suppose.
A lawn is all scattered with purple and white in crocus blooms. Though the charm of spring life does not quite lend beauty to the drabness of the lawn.
The trees all at once are touched with green and red in their branches, a veil over all the hills.
The magnolias hold their flowers still in bud, bright, ready to burst.
All the hills are green. Sometimes it's a great swath of green lovely beneath the blue sky, or gray clouds, and other times a patchwork, as some are closer to the full summer green
The dandelions have a bountiful harvest. Lawns filled with bright yellow now hold hundreds of stacks, each one with its pale nimbus -- a few showing signs that a bird has eaten its full, and indeed, three goldfinches flit over the bounty.
A long day of rain, from light showers to steady rain to thunder, and every break marked by bird cries from chirps and twitters to the mourning doves' deep calls to the ravens cawing in a great unkindness, ends with clouds breaking up, and an arch of rainbow appearing in the sky as I walk. A falcon flies over the road, no higher than my knee and only strides ahead, and then the rainbow arches into a full half circle with the second arch appearing to make it a double rainbow.
The road is lined with green where all the ferns burst into growth. The trees behind have ferns under them -- where visible through the thicket.
A gull soars, catching the sun, and the light pours white through its wings.
Helicopters passing by night are marked by the prolonged and bone-shaking rumble. The next day, a distant rumble -- and all the window shows is a hawk, swirling about.
The roadside is an endless sweep of leafless trees, ground scattered with moldering leaves and snow, below a river so ruffled as to be dark.
The birds now twitter, each one from his tree, a mingling of many songs as the flocks disperse to the work of nesting.
The river is ruffled, but streaks of brown run through the blue, where the mud is so thick it shows.
Sprouts, sprouts, everywhere, but in one spot, a great flurry of snowdrops blooming whitely.
The rivers overflow their banks so that the woodland and fields are simply pools of brown, the rivers themselves being invisible in it. But a waterfall over another slope is white and foaming but not filling its banks utterly. How the rain must have sunk already.
The sprouts poke up, here, there, everywhere, and abruptly, in one moment, a garden holds crocuses in purple, and dwarf irises in deeper purple, and scilly in blue. The next morning, the dwarf daffodils bloom as well.
They gather by the side of the road, their feathers black but mottled with other, dingy shades. I do not look too close, but at first think they are vultures, for their size. Then I realize their heads are also black. Ravens -- large ravens. But then the form is not right. They do not have large enough heads -- and one has a reddish head. Vultures with black heads as well as feathers, I suppose.
A lawn is all scattered with purple and white in crocus blooms. Though the charm of spring life does not quite lend beauty to the drabness of the lawn.
The trees all at once are touched with green and red in their branches, a veil over all the hills.
The magnolias hold their flowers still in bud, bright, ready to burst.
All the hills are green. Sometimes it's a great swath of green lovely beneath the blue sky, or gray clouds, and other times a patchwork, as some are closer to the full summer green
The dandelions have a bountiful harvest. Lawns filled with bright yellow now hold hundreds of stacks, each one with its pale nimbus -- a few showing signs that a bird has eaten its full, and indeed, three goldfinches flit over the bounty.
A long day of rain, from light showers to steady rain to thunder, and every break marked by bird cries from chirps and twitters to the mourning doves' deep calls to the ravens cawing in a great unkindness, ends with clouds breaking up, and an arch of rainbow appearing in the sky as I walk. A falcon flies over the road, no higher than my knee and only strides ahead, and then the rainbow arches into a full half circle with the second arch appearing to make it a double rainbow.
The road is lined with green where all the ferns burst into growth. The trees behind have ferns under them -- where visible through the thicket.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-26 10:09 am (UTC)It really is Magic.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-26 05:42 pm (UTC)