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Photo Credit: Jennie
Anne Benigas
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JUDY'S JOURNAL
June 2018
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“John and I decided a long time ago that we’d
never move to a place without a proper springtime.”
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Finally, Spring
Dear Reader,
Springtime means New Englanders can begin to unfold their hunched-over-against-the-cold
bodies when it’s necessary to venture outdoors. We straighten
up and lift our faces to the sun. The first signs of spring
are always reason to cheer: Did you see the green shoots
next to the garage? There are buds on the rose of Sharon –
tiny, but they’re there!
Relief can come in March or April, but this year, it was mid-May
before spring warmth coaxed buds and bulbs into blossoms and
blooms.
John and I decided a long time ago that we’d never move
to a place without a proper springtime. Artists, writers and
gardeners are not the only groups sensitive to the beauty of
this transformation. However, we might be more driven to take
pictures or write something, so that the circle of Nature’s
admirers might get larger.
My studio looks out on an ancient crab apple tree. For
the past two years, it hasn’t bloomed, and we thought
it might be dying. Last year, we lost a lot of pine
trees (Judy’s Journal, 2017-June), but if this
apple tree died, it would be especially difficult. It’s
breathtaking when in bloom and later in the season provides
food and lodging for birds. It’s always fun to
see wild turkeys balancing themselves on the limbs,
vying for the best crab apple treat. Occasionally, we’ll
see a flock of evening grosbeaks drop like a net on
its branches.
Not too far from the crab apple tree is a Japanese quince
– the other day, I saw a Baltimore oriole resting
on a branch. Imagine the orange against the deep coral
blossoms.
This is one of the joys of writing Judy’s Journal:
I can revisit this spring day anytime. I will, and I
hope that you will, too.
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