After the Crowning by Sara Wright

Emerald and lime
chartreuse lemon
burgundy
burnt umber
leafy green
breath
transformer
 palms and
needles
 raining light
magic bean
spirals skyward
star gazing
ferns feather
paths
pearls
at my feet
wild lilies
woodland
valley brook
scarlet
roots
hug
weeping
fruit trees
conversing
underground
pollinated
rose petals
nourish
moist earth
each tear
slips away
bowed
 deep
 gratitude, a
grieving moment
a thousand
bees hum
 as One.
This cycle
ends even
as
another
has begun.

May is such a tender month that ends on a poignant note – ‘the travelers’ (migrating birds) bring in each day with a symphony, bare branches are budding, bloodroot unfurling, arbutus trailing, violet hearts breaking ground, Solomons seal, three lobed trillium, ajuga spikes, stately Jack in the pulpits, bouquets of buttery button marsh marigolds, trilling gray tree frogs, tadpoles swarming in the pond, one green frog I name Hunter is visiting with the tadpoles and hunting on warm stones.

All this precedes the Crowning, which comes at the end of May when every fruit tree cluster opens her blossoms to the bees, and I become one with all there is under a flowering rose crabapple just outside my door. Between intoxicating scent and bee hum… we are bound as one.

Today light rain breaks the stillness rustling leaves as I stand at the door watching withering blossoms, mauve, and burgundy, pale pink and pearl white petals drift reluctantly to the ground. Yet under every fruit tree summer snow tears will nourish mycelial threads, worm rich soil and the fungal network below. Although this isn’t the end of spring, the crowning of the fruit trees has been accomplished, and I am never ready to let go.

The next round has already begun with the rain that turns each deciduous leaf a deeper shade of emerald or lime. All deciduous tree limbs sway gracefully bending with butterfly leaves that bow to airy southern breezes. Hay Ferns create a graceful edging inviting me down a mossy path to listen to the soothing sound of water on stone. Maidenhair fern is still unfolding and mayapple blossoms come and go, five petaled flowers always hidden under scalloped umbrellas. Although some wildflowers like the trillium have gone by the forget me nots ajuga and columbine are just beginning, bleeding hearts arc and bow to the burgeoning green and my paths are thick with verdant almond leaves – wild lily of the valley is replacing the twinflowers along with pyrola bells and lady slippers and a thousand other ephemeral beauties. Later canada mayflowers and stars of bethlehem will grace the green. Lupine spires violet, blue, purple, pink and lavender become steeples in the field. Wild roses are still prickly canes.

At the end of next month just as the solstice passes lemon lilies will mark one of the most endearing fragrances of the season. Milkweed balls not only bring in the butterflies but mark the last sweet fragrance when they appear in early July.  After this there is a natural break for late July and August heat before fall wildflowers begin to bloom, pale blue and violet asters float through sprays of goldenrod, milkweed pods sail away in tiny parachutes, one seed makes a landing caught by a tree.

Nature’s native plants move in perfect time with the seasonal changes. In another week I will take to the woods splitting my time between here and there.  For the week of the Crowning and until the last petal drops, I am fully present to now, celebrating this jewel of field, stream and forest, my home.

June is lady slipper month with delicate anemones still in bloom in shaded nooks, wild cucumber rounds, blue bead lilies, partridge berry trumpets. Too many to mention. Many woodland flowers will be pollinated by the same bumblebees that have been gracing fruit trees here. But not until the old – fashioned hydrangea blooms will they gather by the thousands to sing again in one collective hum bringing summer to an end.

It fascinates me how nature plans for summer’s fierce light and heat – birds migrate, nest/give birth in the spring – all trees leaf out but native trees and shrubs and wildflowers bloom throughout the spring.

Almost all have set seed by the solstice (with some exceptions). My cherry trees are already seeding up as are the buttery celandine. After the solstice the trees will shut down their photosynthesizing on hot summer afternoons… birds trees plants and other wildlife are still, resting – nature loves mornings and evenings – noonday she can do without – it’s the same with me!

I am forever grateful that the forests hide rare wildflowers for those who cherish them. Gray frogs have been singing for two months; soon toads will be thrumming. In the lowlands hobblebush is birthing fruits that turn bittersweet or crimson. Some nesting warblers and other birds continue conversing with young; others like one titmouse is still lining a nest. Migration has peaked but this one is not a traveler. In the bogs the first orchids stick out fuzzy white and pale pink tongues. Pitcher plants seduce the unwary sending burgundy flowers into the air to attract their prey. Turtles dig deep in sand to lay their eggs. Viburnum clusters are blushing.

 There is so much to look forward to, and yet today I mourn one moon cycle that that passed by too soon…