Today, on April 26—the anniversary of my mother-in-law’s birthday (1918) and the town of Winthrop’s incorporation (1771)—at 11:00 a.m., I looked out the window to my backyard. And what should I spy? Snow, snow, and snow. Enough to get my hair wet as I took a picture of the patio table. Enough to frost the herbs and trees.

But not enough to stop the cavorting squirrels and their hanky panky. (The female squirrel certainly doesn’t make it easy for the male. You go, girl!)

The snow will not last long, and it will bring much needed moisture to what has so far been a dry spring. But still, snow in April is about as welcome as rain in January. Each in its own time.

For supper, I’ll be making chickpea and chicken sausage soup as well as a batch of biscuits to go with it. As I eat the hot soup, I’ll be thinking, “Snow, snow, go away!”

Time was when I had both daffodils and tulips in my garden. In short order, the moles voles took care of the tulip bulbs—at the little house in the big woods, little rodents positively abound, even though we have always had cats. So that was that for tulips.

But the daffodils were another matter. Apparently, moles do not care for their bulbs, and for years and years the daffodils’ jaunty blooms brightened an otherwise drab spring garden. But then the bulbs petered out, as bulbs sometimes do, and I must shamefacedly admit that I did not replace them.

Who’s sorry now? I am, that’s for sure, especially after seeing the daffodil pictures on Jason’s wonderful blog Garden in a City. I have vowed to mend my lax ways and plant bulbs this fall so that next spring I can have cheerful yellow in my spring garden. In the meantime, I’ve spotted some daffodils in my neighbor’s garden up the road. Perhaps she’ll let me photograph them.

I do have hyacinths coming up, and their bulbs have proved remarkably sturdy. They do not spread much—hyacinths, so sweet and showy, seem to know their value and feel no need to elbow their way through the garden. Over thirty years ago, when we first moved to Winthrop, my mother-in-law bought some bulbs and randomly planted them in bunches throughout the garden. I still love how they pop up here and there, little spring presents to dazzle us with both looks and scent.

Right now, the darling buds are just beginning to form. After taking a picture of various plants, I noticed, for the first time, the little red tips of the leaves.

“Do the red tips go away as the plant matures?” Clif asked when I showed him the picture.

“I don’t remember,” I answered sheepishly, and I promised to keep a better eye on them.

We have had many days of azure skies and sun. Naturally, there have been fire warnings, but these clear days can’t be beat for working in the yard, for raking and uncovering flower beds. We are making good progress, and in the next week or so I expect the gardens will be free of leaves and ready for wood ash, organic fertilizer, and compost.

Then comes the part I always look forward to—planting flowers in pots. How I love doing this, and I’m always sorry when the last flower is planted.

Tonight there will be a nearly full moon. Appropriately, the full moon—the pink moon—is tomorrow, on Earth Day. As the nights have been as clear as the days, the waxing moon fills the evening with a bright, luminous glow that would make a flash light unnecessary on a walk up our dark road.

On a recent visit our daughter Dee asked, “Where are the street lights?”

My response. “Dee, you’ve been gone too long. We’ve never had them.”

And this is why the full moon is such a treat on our road. For a week each month, weather permitting, we can look out our windows at night and see the yard, the trees, and the road.

Addendum: Eliza Waters kindly pointed out that moles are insectivores, and it was probably voles that ate my tulip bulbs. Thanks for the correction, Eliza!

Beech trees are not as magnificent as oaks nor as splendid as maples. But they have one thing going for them that neither oaks nor maples have and that would be leaves that last all through the winter. Beech leaves in winter are, of course, not green. Instead, they are pale, and they rustle and rattle when the wind blows.

Beech leaves finally fall in the spring, but there are some that are still hanging from the trees in the woods behind our house. If you look closely in the above picture, you can see new buds forming on the branches. Soon the old leaves will fall to the ground to become part of the rich soil that nourishes the trees.

This next picture of our patio is not exactly of the natural world, but I couldn’t resist posting it. (Anyway, the beech leaves fulfilled my self-imposed requirement of each day posting a nature picture during Earth Week.)

We have never had the patio entirely set up by Earth Week. Heck, some years there is still a line of snow in the backyard in mid-April. We usually aim to have everything out by mid-May, but yesterday the day was so fine—70°—that we couldn’t resist bringing up the big table, the rest of the chairs, and the citronella torches from down cellar.

From now until early fall, the patio will be our second living room, and although it is not of nature, it does put us in nature. As the trees in the picture indicates, the woods are not very far away, and when we sit on the patio, we see and hear many of the creatures who live there.

Yesterday, we were treated to a beautiful bird symphony. How the finches, cardinals, chickadees, tufted titmice, and nuthatches sang, their voices merging together to become a joyous song of spring. Their sweet song was punctuated by the percussion of the woodpeckers—Hairy, downy, pileated, and the most recent arrival to central Maine, the red-breasted woodpecker.

To borrow from Mozart, what a delight this is you cannot imagine. Or maybe you can. I suspect many readers of this blog love birds just as much as I do and listen eagerly for their song of spring.

Yesterday, after doing yard work, Clif and I celebrated by having drinks and nibbles on the patio. After a long winter of being inside, how good it was to be there, and we are looking forward to many more days and nights on the patio.

Come, spring, come.

Today marks the beginning of Earth Week, a very special week for us as it culminates on April 22, Earth Day and also the birthday of our youngest daughter, Shannon. In honor of Earth week, each day I’ll be posting nature pictures taken either at the little house in the  big woods or in Winthrop, a town known for its beautiful lakes.

I will admit that mid-April in Maine is not its most photogenic time. Rather, we are on the cusp of true spring, where May kicks up her heels and blesses us with a landscape so dazzling we can hardly stand it.

Nevertheless, there are lovely albeit quiet moments to enjoy in Maine in April. Here are a few from our backyard.

I just cannot resist taking pictures of the red buds on the maples. How I love them.

I love the red buds even more when there is a bird or two among the branches.

And, I was happy to find a tree spirit in the woods on the edge of our backyard.

It hardly needs to be said that every day should be Earth Day. Where would we be without Earth to sustain us? However, setting aside special days to honor what we love is a long-standing tradition for humans.

So let us celebrate Earth Day with a happy, grateful heart. And maybe, just maybe, we can think of ways of living more lightly on this lovely, blue planet.

The end of March, and our backyard is positively aflutter with birds. The trees are full of them, and the cheeping of the goldfinches at times reaches a shrill but thrilling crescendo. In between, I hear the lovely song of our cardinal; the chipper call of the chickadees, plentiful but never common, as a good friend once noted; the cooing of mourning doves; and many other bird voices.

New to the backyard are our cardinal and his mate. To say it is a thrill to have them here is a big, big understatement. Cardinals, recent arrivals in Maine, tend to like open spaces, and the yard at the little house in the big woods is anything but open. However, the cardinals came to us last spring, and they are with us still. I suppose there is less competition from other cardinals here as well as a steady supply of food. Whatever the reason, I hope they (and their descendants) make this their permanent home.

Another new arrival is the red-bellied woodpecker, and this bird is even more recent than the cardinals, which have been in Maine for fifteen or twenty years. Until a couple of years ago, I had never seen a red-bellied woodpecker. Now, they are fairly common to the area, and we have at least one coming to the feeder. (Perhaps more. It’s hard for me to distinguish one from the other, but I have only seen one at a time.)

Last week, we bought bird seed and filled the feeders.  Within a week, the feeders needed to be refilled. The birds are hungry, even hungrier than they were in the winter, when we filled the feeders every few weeks. Perhaps it’s because they are getting ready to start their families, and no doubt this is hungry work. Whatever the case, we dote on the birds and will keep those feeders full.

In a month or so, when the weather is warmer, we plan to invite our friends John and Beth over for grilled pizza. They love sitting on the patio and watching the birds as much as we do, and last spring we spent a happy afternoon watching the fluttering beauties who are not in the least bothered by us or our noisy dog.

My little camera, which does such a great job with flowers and food, does not capture birds very well. Nevertheless, knowing I am in for heartbreak and disappointment, I try, snapping away at the various birds that come to our backyard. Clif also tries to take pictures of these little creatures that seldom sit still.

But once in a while, we even get a couple of pictures that we can actually use in a post.

Oh, wily March. Yesterday you gave us snow. Today, we get freezing rain. There is nothing quite  like that tick, tick, tick of freezing rain as it hits the house. Here are what the steps looked like this morning when I returned from a hair appointment in town.

Here is a close-up. You can bet I used extreme caution going up and down the stairs.

And just so the backyard doesn’t feel left out, here’s a picture of our woebegone patio.

Never mind! Clif has a fire going in the wood furnace, so all is cozy at the little house in the big woods. Tonight is going to be treat night with chips and dip, frozen pizza, and a fun movie—we haven’t settled on which one yet.

So take that March and freezing rain!

Yesterday, according to my calendar, was the first day of spring, and this is what greeted me when I got up this morning.

Snow, and not just a dusting. Ah, March. No matter how you might lull us into thinking that spring is here, you always have a little snowstorm up your sleeve to show us who’s boss.

Once more, Little Green will be pressed into service to clean the driveway. Out will come the shovels, and the scraper for the car.  Fortunately, the snow is light, and it doesn’t look as though there will be power outages. For this we must be very grateful.

The snow won’t last long. Still, even though I know this, a snowstorm the end of March feels like a setback.

And I don’t like it. Not one little bit.