Each month, those of us participating in this photo challenge return to our chosen location to note the passage of time through “The Changing Seasons.” I’ve chosen to document a year around my old house and gardens.
Extraterrestrial to human ambassador: Why does the human work so hard during the month of March?
Human Ambassador to ET: She is not working. She is gardening.
ET: But it is not logical. She is removing everything she worked so hard to cultivate last year. It seems her life would be far easier were she simply not to plant so much in the first place.
HA: She is of the species Gardener. Often their activities are not fathomable even to the rest of us Humans.
ET: We overheard her use some interesting language while pruning the roses. Her back is stiff – even a human could observe that at a glance – and she has a hand full of splinters. Why then is there that air of peace and contentment about her?
HA: As I explained earlier, not all humans fall into the Gardener species and much of their motivation is unknowable, even to us. They are an odd lot but generally harmless, we find. In fact the birds, bees, and butterflies I mentioned to you earlier find them quite indispensable. And the rest of us benefit so from the beauty they create.
ET: Well, it is all most illogical, but let’s move on now to that other strange species, shall we? What do you call them? Bloggers?
Yes, that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing all March long. Cleaning up the disaster area that was my once neatly cultivated garden. In addition to the regular garden clean-up, the big trees are dropping pine cones and gumballs by the bazillions. Well, I stopped counting at a bazillion….there very well might be more.
Of course none of this clean-up is as vexing as that required because of a true subspecies: those who throw trash out of their car windows. Luckily I see none of this from the house, but the roadside clean-up remains a fact of our lives year-round. If I were Queen, there would be a special dungeon into which I would throw these heathens. Depending on my mood, there might even be mild torture….
While the woods are still free of ticks, poison ivy, and the dreaded snake, I like to venture in to free the saplings from the stranglehold of abundant and vigorous vines. I don’t remember the woods in Massachusetts being so full of vines. Is it a uniquely Southern thing?
Max is enjoying getting out and about, and he’s been developing friendlier relations with the mule-next-door, Prada. The horse, Zephyr, remains impervious to Max’s charms.
In March, as the weather slowly warms and the days grow a bit longer, the fields begin to return to green:
Here and there, the first signs of life are stirring:
Oh! In case you were wondering why I attack the vines along the edges of the woods, check out this terrifying vine we encountered while walking along the James River. Unbelievable, isn’t it?
That is NOT something I want to tackle next March, believe me.
Many thanks to Cardinal Guzman for hosting this challenge. I hope you enjoyed what the month of March brings to my old Barn.
Thanks for reading,