I did not intend to or anticipate being away from Roundtop Mountain for as long as I have been. Family considerations took precedence and took me off the mountain for a while. Down in the valley, people are commenting that the sudden and early spring has made the daffodils and the tulips bloom at the same time, the first time in anyone’s memory that has happened.
Here on the mountain, it’s much the same, though with violets, wild geraniums, spring beauties and even mayapples all in bloom at once, instead of the tamer daffodils and tulips. The forest is thick with blooms of all kinds. This is both spectacular to see and, I suspect, a harbinger of a long stretch of non-blooming greenery ahead.
Woodland flowers tend to be delicate little things, often with just a few days of blooming glory. Once they are gone, they are gone for another 363 days or so. In a normal year, the flowers bloom more sequentially—a week for this one, followed by something else the next week and so on for a while. This year, it’s a big party and everyone arrived at the same time. When the party is over, it will really be over, and I will have nothing to anticipate except six months of greenery.
Already, the trees are as leafed out as they are in mid-May. Already, the view to the western mountain has disappeared. Already, the night sky is obscured by a million or more oak leaves. And no, the warblers haven’t arrived yet, but neither have the mosquitoes (may they stay away even longer).
This year, the violets seem even more profuse than is typical. They are among my favorites. That deep purple shade is simply unmistakable and a rare color among the more common pale pinks and whites and yellows.
I am back on Roundtop Mountain. While I was gone, spring moved ahead without me, as of course it would. Such is the way of the natural world. It always moves on. One year, it will move on without me, but it will still and always move on. Every day is Earth Day.